


Angels Alone

by Trinket2018



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aftermath of Torture, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mission Fic, Original Character(s), Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinket2018/pseuds/Trinket2018
Summary: Daniel is an NID ‘prisoner of conscience’ for refusing to do a critical translation, and his many & diverse friends seek to spring him.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Danny gets whumped, naturally, but nothing he can’t handle. And a major, big time ‘I told you so’ long overdue. DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1, the characters and universe are the property of Kawoosh Productions, Showtime/Viacom, Sony/MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions and the Sci-Fi Channel. No copyright infringement is intended. I have absolutely no right to be playing with them or their universe. I just gotta. I promise to get nothing out of it but personal satisfaction. RATING: NC-17 for profanity, violence. SPOILERS: Set 7th Season (Daniel is back from Ascension). Reference to episode 4-9-‘Scorched Earth’, & 4-17-‘Absolute Power’. WARNINGS: Violence.

Å 

Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage;  
Minds innocent and quiet take that for an hermitage;  
If I have freedom in my love and in my soul am free,  
Angels alone, that soar above, enjoy such liberty.  
\- ‘To Althea, From Prison’, Richard Lovelace. 

Å 

The Enkarans had seen a ship like it once, though that one had been considerably larger and immeasurably older. But even if they had not, their specially designated alien liaison, Lotan, recognized it immediately. When he opened the appropriate communications channel to the small, sleek craft sitting politely on the Main Plaza of the Enkaran home world Capitol City, the visitors were pleased to speak with Lotan.

The odd, high and squeaky voices over the comm link were quickly translated. The mysterious visitors could not leave the protective atmosphere of their craft to meet with the Enkaran High Council in physical fact, but wished to know of the Enkarans if Lotan had been… “good”. Since these civilized people of an ancient race would always be grateful for the return of their lost tribes some years before, stolen by the Goa’uld millennia ago, and more recently had been exceedingly glad of Lotan’s help in various trade negotiations with aliens of various stripes, then yes, they had no hesitation in replying, he had been very “good”. 

Then the visitors wanted to know of Lotan if he was… “happy”. It was an odd question for them to ask, as Lotan knew they had only the vaguest concept of “happy”. The word itself must have come from their recordings of the lost Enkarans and Tau’ri during their interactions with Lotan at the very dawn of his existence. But Lotan had learned much himself, from both the Tau’ri and his adopted people the Enkarans, so he answered quickly and without reservation that indeed, yes, he was “happy” as an Enkaran. 

Then the visiting aliens expressed a desire to meet Lotan face-to-face. They provided a breathing apparatus and protective suit for him to enter the caustic and deadly atmosphere within their little ship – caustic and lethal to his genetically engineered body and organs, at least. Lotan calmed the fears of his adopted people, and entered the ship.

After an hour, Lotan emerged, waved at the small craft, and it lifted, silently and effortlessly, from the Plaza, then sped out of sight.

“But… what did they want?” the mystified Enkaran Chief of Global Security asked.

Lotan blinked, having to adjust to the softer humanoid tones of his adopted people once more. Then he smiled. “They wish to say thank you to someone.”

The First Minister humphed. “To Dr. Daniel Jackson?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Do they know what the Tau’ri have done to the poor man?” the Minister of Health demanded.

“I told them everything I knew,” Lotan replied with a gentle smile. 

The Chief Justice chuckled, well satisfied. “So they proceed to Earth?”

“Not… directly. They are a cautious race. They are exceedingly careful of the ramifications of their actions - of their inactions as well. You note, for instance, how anxious they were to learn of the results of my arrival among you – both for your sakes and mine. They questioned me very closely on that, and what ‘happy’ means. Then they asked me for a list of others who know the Tau’ri in general, and Dr. Jackson in particular. I believe they intend to investigate further before deciding how best to express their gratitude to Dr. Jackson.”

“For not letting Colonel O’Neill blow them all up?”

“For not allowing their revival to result in genocide of an innocent race as desperate to relocate, and as deserving of continued existence, as they.”

“Ah.”

“And for a lesson in following a path that leads to the truest function.”

Å


	2. How the Camel Got His Humph

Å

Dr. Daniel Jackson heard the annoying buzz of the intercom down at the guard’s station, and checked the clock on the wall outside his cell. It said eleven fifteen, but he had no idea if it was morning or night. It could easily have been either in this windowless brick-lined cell. But the buzzer meant he would soon have an interruption – he was the only occupant on this corridor. So he set down his pen, shut the coil-spine notebook and tried to stretch the kinks out of his neck and shoulders. By which time the guard had arrived. 

“You’ve got visitors, Dr. J. You ready?”

Daniel nodded, struggling out of his chair at the tiny writing table – the only two pieces of furniture in his cell apart from the iron-fame cot bolted to the brick wall, the stainless steel sink and commode. “Yes, thanks, Ernie.” He laboriously re-fastened the leg brace to his right leg, then reached for the arm-crutches leaning against the wall, and hissed in pain as he struggled to stabilize his balance. 

“Uh, Dr. J… word from the gate is these guys are new…” It was a neutral tone, just a shadow of apology and regret coloring it. Daniel smiled, and carefully removed his bent and taped-together glasses, one lens cracked but still usable, folded them and placed them on the table above his notebook. They would be safer left behind than with him. New interrogators always had so much to prove, and couldn’t seem to believe that a weedy, nerdy archeologist in glasses was pretty much immune to physical intimidation and threats… or even any degree of actual rough-stuff. It was harder on his glasses than on him, and he needed his glasses. 

“Thanks for the heads-up, Ernie.”

“I… uh… also gave Cathy a call, she’s on duty today in the infirmary, just to let her know… you know. In case.”

Daniel favored his guard with a true smile. “I appreciate it, Ernie. Thanks. But you want to be careful, acting like a human being. The last four guards on this block were transferred to McMurdo for pretty much the same thing.”

“That’s six, Dr. J. Yeah, I heard. But I kinda like the cold. You ready?”

“I am now, I think.” Daniel hobbled to the cell door and waited for the procedure to open it up. A signal from Frank at the guard’s station, a loud blare of alarm, a clanking of bars mechanically rolled back, then an electronic click on the lock of his cell door before Ernie swung it open. He stood back to let Daniel by, and followed at a regulation two paces behind and to the left, with his hand on the popped open holster of his side-arm.

As they passed through the guard’s station, Daniel said, “Hey, Frank. What is it tonight? Pastrami on rye?”

“You got it, Doc.”

“Is Sue trying to kill you or something?”

“Ri-ight. Your sense of humor is what got you shut up in here, right, Doc?”

Daniel chuckled, giving a wave as he hobbled to the main corridor.

“I’ll save you half, Doc,” Frank called after them.

“Thanks, but don’t bother, Frank. Enjoy.”

“You’ll be sorry, Doc. I think it’s macaroni and cheese tonight.”

Daniel gave an eloquent shudder as they reached the elevator that would take them up to ground level. Never thought he’d miss the high cuisine and nutritional value of MRE’s…

It was a slow, difficult journey to the interrogation rooms. They passed windows and Daniel was able to verify that it was coming up to noon, rather than midnight. He smiled faintly, turning his face into the wan sunlight filtered through the filthy, sooty panes of glass. 

Ernie got him settled in interrogation room 5A, Daniel’s favorite as his guard well knew, as it had the best windows. He sat in one of the two metal chairs at the scarred metal table, hands cuffed behind him, crutches removed with Ernie to the corridor outside where the guard alerted the front desk on the wall phone that the prisoner was ready.

Daniel took a deep breath and turned his face to the light. He couldn’t actually see anything outside the grimy glass, but that wasn’t the point. It made a change from the cell. 

He was making good progress on the journal, but it was good to have a break. This was the third – no, fourth – version. This was the farthest they had let him get, and if not for the frequent delays in answering his requests for supplies, he might have actually finished one. He had sympathetic guards without a proper sense of self-preservation to thank for the fact he could get the notebooks and pens he needed for his work at all. The previous editions had all been confiscated before he could finish, as the current probably would be in a few days – or more probably, today. 

He had outlined the death of Sha’re – again – and the search for her son, the first meeting with Oma… not all the details, just enough to set the scene, and had also covered the call from Kasuf that brought them back to Abydos where Shifu waited for him. He covered the arguments for and against using the knowledge of the Harcesis bottled in an innocent young child… Sha’re’s child… These events had all been covered in dryly factual official mission briefings and reports, although his version contained more depth and detail… broadened by his motivations, colored by his thoughts and feelings on the events. His reluctant agreement to allow the young boy to be interrogated, in spite of the dangers that might pose. His guilt for going along with it at all, for not fighting hard enough for Sha’re’s son. Then he had launched into the real story, the one he had never before told anyone in any detail, the phantom year of his life within the teaching dream Shifu had given him. Which was kind of the point in writing the journal in the first place. Because that, he described in excruciating detail. Every time. This current version was word-for-word identical to the other versions, until he had overtaken Sam’s arrest, the point he had left off last time. Today he had actually begun to describe Jack’s interview with Sam from her heavily monitored cell. And then there would just be the day of the launch to go through… Another few hours and he would be done. He wondered if he would get the opportunity.

If anyone bothered to compare, they’d realize the advantages of an eidetic memory, and give up trying to use his work as a hostage. Wouldn’t help if all they wanted to do was harass him, though… He had hoped at least one time they would let him get to the end, the moral of the story. He had hoped someone would actually read the confiscated versions. There was never a sign anyone had. At any rate, no one ever questioned him on the details. Next time he planned to pick up at the exact spot this one left off, hoping to get all the way through Shifu’s Dream. It didn’t really matter where he started. Keep doing it, over and over. If anyone was actually reading his journals, it might be a revelation to them... If. Maybe. Probably wouldn’t have the same impact just reading it, as opposed to living it… or thinking, believing you were living it.

He heard the staccato rhythm of footsteps coming down the corridor, more than one man, all with military marching precision. Daniel tried to relax the tension tightening his gut, calling upon some of Teal’c’s meditation techniques. He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing deep. 

There was an abrupt silence when the visitors arrived. Exchanging salutes, showing identity badges and authorization papers, no doubt. Then the door opened.

Daniel kept his eyes straight ahead, but out of the corner of his eye he caught a tall, ramrod-straight figure with silver hair in a Class A Air Force uniform, cap tucked under one arm. But as soon as the door shut behind him, Daniel heard that familiar, welcome voice.

“For cryin’ out loud, Daniel! What the hell have you got yourself into this time?”

For a moment, Daniel found himself too swamped by emotions, the flood of heat and trembling, to do more than smile slowly up at the older man. Memories, hopes, fears, all chased like lightning from head to chest, leaving him frozen and dumb. Was Colonel Jack O’Neill come to rescue him once again? Spring him from this purgatory? Engineer an escape? Or… aw crap, he wasn’t, couldn’t be, just the latest, and by far the most effective in a long succession of interrogators? 

It felt like hours that Daniel floundered, though it was probably just seconds, as Jack hadn’t moved or spoken, his warm, brown eyes sweeping over Daniel.

“You’re looking good, Jack,” Daniel said mildly, at last. “Forgive me if I don’t get up, but…” he rattled his hand cuffs, keeping him secured to the chair.

Jack’s look soured, his mouth twisting into a grimace as his eyes grew cold and angry. Which Daniel expected, so he didn’t even cringe. And the Colonel did look good, as much as Daniel could make out without his glasses. Fit, tanned, the uniform setting off his tall, lean frame, the set of wide shoulders and trim waist. His hair was a bit more silver… distinguished. 

“Well, you look like hell. Been having fun?”

“Oh yeah,” Daniel retorted. “Lots of fun.”

The two friends fell silent then, drinking each other in. Daniel smiled, wryly, noting Jack was far less impressed with what he saw than the archeologist. Same old, same old.

“So Jack. What brings you to Langley?”

Slowly, Jack lowered himself into the only other chair, across from Daniel. “I came to ask a favor.”

“Ah. Well, as you can see, I’m a bit tied up at the moment, but anything I can do…”

“Ferretti’s got himself in a spot of bother. He and SG2 are the guests of some folks who aren’t very happy with them… but we’re not sure what their beef actually is. You wouldn’t happen to know a linguist available who knows spoken Akkadian, would you?”

Daniel took a deep breath. Hope was a cruel, painful thing, piercing his heart, almost causing him to spasm. Carefully schooling himself not to show any of his internal torment for the elucidation of the invisible audience he knew were watching every move in this room – he’d gotten good at that in the past year – he said hesitantly, “As a matter of fact, I think I might. But I’m not so sure he’s… free, at the moment.”

Jack’s expression was stony. “I think I can arrange something. So. You game?”

Daniel pondered another moment. “Just how much is this costing you, Jack?”

“Me? Nothing. Might cost Ferretti and SG2 a hell of a lot more.”

“Hammond then?”

“Nope. I get the impression it’s the White House calling this one in. I’m just the messenger.”

So Daniel pondered *that*. Then he nodded, once. “Okay.”

“Okay? Simple as that?”

“How many times did Lou and his guys pull our asses out of the fire? Yes. Okay. Just like that. But… you know the score.”

“Maybe you’d better spell it out for me.”

“I’ll do everything and anything in my power to get Lou and SG2 home. But as soon as that mission is complete…”

“All bets are off?” Jack nodded. “Understood. You ready to leave?”

“Any time.”

Jack called the sergeant in to release the prisoner. When Ernie arrived with the handcuffs, he also had Daniel’s crutches. Jack flared angrily. “Daniel! What the hell are those?”

The linguist looked up, blinking owlishly even without his glasses. “Oh. These are my crutches.” With Ernie’s help, he untangled himself from the table, got himself upright and steady. “I… slipped in the shower.”

Jack might have made an issue of it then and there, but he glanced at the large mirror covering one wall, and the camera in one corner by the ceiling, and held stiff, gulping convulsively.

“Sergeant. Pack up his stuff, will you? All of it. Meet us at the gate. Don’t forget his glasses.”

“Sir! Yes sir.”

Out in the hall, they were joined by two men in black suits, white shirts and narrow black ties, with black sunglasses and small twiddly bits of communicator coil tucked in their ears. One took a set of traveling manacles and conscientiously made certain Daniel’s wrists and ankles were cuffed in thick leather, chained with just enough give to allow minimal movement. Even less given Daniel’s already-restricted range from the arm crutches. 

Jack stood back, face like thunder as he glared daggers at the NID agents. “Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s necessary to slow a guy down who can barely stand on his own.”

Neither of the NID men answered. Daniel’s own statement was the achingly slow progress he was able to make down the halls to the front gate.

Ernie waited for them there with everything Daniel now owned in the world in a small duffle bag that was barely half full. Ernie snapped a smart salute to Jack, then risked an immediate transfer by shaking Daniel’s hand.

“Good luck, Dr. J.”

“Keep my cell warm for me, will you, Ernie? Wouldn’t want to lose the prime location.”

Ernie smirked. “I’ll let Frank know you said that, Doc. He enjoys your jokes.”

Then Daniel was ushered into the waiting black limo. He and Jack sat in the back, side by side, with the two grim-faced silent NID men seated opposite.

“Had a good view, did you?” Jack asked idly as they pulled out of the gates of the high security facility. Not a prison, Daniel had been told, and he wasn’t a prisoner. He hadn’t been granted even that much of an identity, or that much right under law. 

“Remember Hannibal Lector’s cell in ‘Silence of the Lambs’? He had more space.”

“Ah…”

“And a TV. And more stuff. Carpet, curtains… that sort of… never mind.”

Jack ached to speak, but he didn’t, just glared at their escort.

They were taken to an airfield where General Hammond’s personal jet awaited. They gained two more Men in Black, lead by a grey-suited Agent-in-Charge, and company in the form of Major Paul Davis – the SGC’s Pentagon liaison. Like Colonel O’Neill, however, Davis eyed Daniel with reaction and emotions carefully under guard.

Daniel managed fine to the bottom of the gantry steps, then looked up and almost gasped in dismayed frustration. It took him ten full minutes to struggle up the dozen steps, Jack and Davis both gritting their teeth and clenching fists to resist offering help, while the NID AIC just smirked. When the ‘detainee’ finally reached the top, he was panting, white-faced and sweating. Davis slipped then, offering a hand to one elbow as Jack surged forward to take the other and help him to the nearest seat. Davis scowled up at the NID master, biting out, “Are the chains really necessary?”

“It’s procedure, Major Davis,” the man in the grey suit said quietly, even a little smugly.

Daniel looked up at his old friend and said, “I thought that was you, Paul. How are you?” He smiled. “Maybe you could introduce me?” Daniel suggested to his two friends as everyone buckled in and the jet taxied to the runway. The man in grey had brought three of his MIBs with him aboard the jet, the last driving off in the limo.

“Julius Rohrbeck, NID ops,” Jack growled.

“That’s James,” the NID guy corrected.

“Sorry,” Jack tossed back, obviously not. “Jimbo.”

It was a minor way of expressing his frustration and monumental rage, as he snuck glances at his friend. Daniel was a mess. He had put his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. His face shadowed and hollow, gaunt, with a spectral ghostly cast to his skin, like a blind cave-fish. Lines of pain had etched around the eyes. The day-glo orange of his one-piece prison jump-suit didn’t help improve his color, and the baggy stiffened material disguised what Jack had already noticed, that Daniel had lost weight. A lot of weight. Always slim, he was now dangerously frail. The younger man’s jaw worked convulsively and a frown wrinkled the brow over his nose, signs he was in pain. Jack didn’t think the NID rats realized, but he and Paul Davis did. The Pentagon aide glanced in worry at Jack.

“Once we’re airborne we’ll get you a drink and something to eat, okay, Daniel?”

“It’s okay, Jack. I’m not very hungry.” The voice held signs of strain, too. Damn it, the man was in pain.

“How about a couple of Tylenol, then, and a coffee?”

“That’d be good. Thanks, Jack.”

As soon as they reached cruising altitude and leveled off, everyone but Daniel unbuckled.

“I’ll make coffee,” Davis volunteered, quiet and sobered.

“Okay. This is how it’s going to go, Doctor Jackson,” Rohrbeck stated, twisting his chair toward the other two men, stopping short of an all-out smug, self-satisfied leer, but not by much. “You are still, and will remain, in NID custody. You will be under constant and full surveillance, and at least two of my men will accompany you at all times… at *all* times. You will not speak with anyone without my prior authorization, and at no time will you be permitted to communicate with anyone, in person, on the phone, radio or over the computer, without at least one of my people as a witness, and we will be recording, wherever possible. You will be fully restrained with leg and wrist irons, released only at my discretion. Every attempt by you, or others, to circumvent these rules will be met with proportional response to ensure that it does not succeed, and there’s no repeat attempt. Do you understand?”

Jack growled at his side, and Daniel smiled a little as he nodded.

“Now I’ll tell *you* how it’s going to go, Jimbo,” Jack said quietly, his voice thick with menace. “Since you NID bastards have clearly no clue how to keep this man safe and well, at no time will we be leaving him alone in your tender care. Two of *my* men will also be present whenever your men are, and *any* attempt by you or your people to interfere in any way with *my* archeologist will be met with extreme displeasure. Hell, we’ll probably just shoot you. We have a lot of creative ways of dealing with awkward bodies. And the second he gets to the Mountain, those damned chains are coming off. Do you understand *me*?”

Rohrbeck’s smugness faded just a little. He turned deliberately away to open his briefcase, and take out papers and a cell phone. Busy busy.

“And at that,” Jack muttered, “he’s getting off light. Jesus… only think what Teal’c would have done if… and let’s not even mention Carter…”

Daniel flinched. He hadn’t wanted to ask after his friends, his family. Not with the NID bastards hanging on every word. But he did just wonder why they hadn’t come with Jack. With the studied malevolence behind Jack’s sub-vocal comments, Daniel felt a shiver of apprehension. Where were Teal’c and Sam? What had happened while he had been… gone? Surely, someone would have told him if… oh hell. No one would, would they? How would they get the news to him, if not through the NID? And why would the NID tell him, unless it could be used as leverage against him? But now was not the time to go into any of it. And if he couldn’t be alone to hear any bad news (and his imagination ran riot telling him just how bad it could be), he wasn’t sure he could take hearing it at all. 

Rohrbeck pretty much ignored Jack as so much background noise, making calls as Jack got up and went to the back to pour water and get a bottle of Tylenol from the tiny galley. He delivered them, kneeling before his friend.

“Here you go, Danny. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” was the predictable answer, although Daniel shook four white caplets into his shaking palm and tossed them down with water. “Do you have my stuff? I need my glasses.”

Of course he did. Jack suddenly realized the archeologist probably hadn’t even recognized it was him in that interrogation room until he had spoken. Without a word, Jack pulled out the duffle and began excavating the few – very few – items out of it. Daniel smiled as he picked up the notebook and set it carefully aside, well within reach.

“What the hell are these?” Jack demanded, examining the mangled pair of – excuse the expression – spectacles in his hand. 

“My last pair broke a while ago. I wasn’t allowed any replacements. I’m not really allowed any books, either, so… I guess I didn’t really need them…” Daniel’s voice trailed away, and Jack shifted uneasily. The world was a foggy blur to the archeologist without his glasses, Jack knew, and even contacts didn’t give him the reassurance of perfect clarity. To be forced to live without it… Daniel went on, “Sgt. Garfield gave me these. He was my…” Daniel hesitated, doing the math in his head, “my fourth guard. It was the highest magnification he could get at the drugstore stand. When the NID found out about it, they reassigned him, next day. To Iraq. He died two months ago, in a car bombing. For a ten dollar pair of drugstore reading glasses. The NID thought I should know that.”

“Daniel. Not your fault.”

“I know,” he said, with a curt nod, just a little too lightly. 

Jack sighed, giving his friend a pat. “We’ve got a long trip ahead. Why don’t you get some rest.”

“Thanks, Jack,” Daniel whispered, as he settled back, laying the glasses carefully aside. 

Once he was certain Daniel was asleep, Jack retreated to the galley alcove with Davis and took out his cell-phone. The number he wanted was the first on his speed-dial. But even as he awaited the connection, Rohrbeck had slimed his way back with them. 

“Private call here, Jimbo.”

“Not this time, Colonel. The NID has significant and legitimate security issues at stake. As in National, probably world security.”

“Yeah, yeah… blow it out your ear… No, sir, sorry sir, I didn’t mean you. I have our NID escort at my elbow… yes sir. Understood. I have our package—“

“That’s *our* package, Colonel O’Neill, lest you forget.”

“We’re in the air, ETA at Peterson fifteen hundred Mountain standard. But you might want to delay the briefing by an hour or two. I want the Infirmary on stand-by for a complete physical… Yes sir. Just from where I’m standing I’d say he’s lost at least thirty pounds, and his right leg is in a brace. Says he slipped in the shower… Yes sir. I agree. He can’t stand on his own. If I had anything stronger than Tylenol to give him, I would... Yes sir… A wheelchair to meet us at the landing strip would be a good idea. And a couple of pairs of glasses. We still have his prescription on file, don’t we? I don’t know what the hell he’s using now, but even duct tape won’t hold those puppies together much longer... Yes sir. I entirely agree.” With that, Jack glared at his NID counterpart. “The General says you need a few pointers in the care and feeding of archeologists who are vital to world security.” 

It didn’t even put a dent in the NID bastard’s smugness. But he did retreat back to his seat, Jack and Davis to theirs, as the jet sped on its way west.

For the next hour, Jack watched Daniel sleep. Just watched. Noting every hair, freckle, wrinkle, every fleeting half-formed dream-inspired expression moving that mobile mouth, lifting those expressive eyebrows, bringing those familiar vertical lines over the bridge of his nose. Just watching, drinking up the sight, trying to wrap his head and heart around the knowledge that the man was here, finally, after three long months, just within reach. And desperately trying to forget the day-glo orange jump-suit, the leg-shackles and wrist manacles, the knee brace and crutches, the taped, cracked and bent glasses folded on the side tray, the gaunt, wasted and withered hollow look to that still-handsome face, the NID bastards clustered around the jet cabin… because if he didn’t forget all of that, he was going to have to shoot something.

The jet hit a pocket of turbulence, and Daniel gave a gasp, a cough, a sneeze, and woke up. He frowned, blinking, blue eyes wide and vague and bewildered. But in a moment, he had put it together again: Jack, a plane, Davis, NID bastards. Oh, yeah. Jack could almost hear the tumblers falling into place for his friend.

“Hey, Daniel.”

“Hey, Jack.” The archeologist groped about himself. Jack retrieved his glasses – such as they were – and handed them over. Daniel made a production out of getting them adjusted. Apparently, there was one actual usable spot of visibility through them if Daniel could get them to sit right.

“Sorry. I guess I fell asleep.”

“Yeah, well… as my Mom always says, you must have needed it.”

“Yeah…” Daniel took another surreptitious look around, took in the NID bastards, now that he could make out at least some fine detail. He winced when he hit Rohrbeck. “Oh. Him.” Then he sighed and set his shoulders in resignation before turning a wry grin on Jack. 

“So. You must be feeling frustrated right now.”

“Sorry?”

“With them around.” Daniel hiked a chin in Rohrbeck’s direction. “With them as an audience, you can’t get a real head of steam going.”

“For…?”

“Yelling at me. Telling me what a goddamned stubborn ass I’m being. Demanding what the hell I thought I was doing. Ordering me to give them what they want, to stop…”

Jack sighed. “No, Daniel. Well, maybe I do want to yell a bit… but then, I always want to yell. That’s just me venting. The rest… it took me a while to wrap my head around it, but… actually, I think you did the right thing. Well, of course… you being you… you had to do the right thing. I… I’m not so sure I could have done it, if it had been me.”

Daniel gave a sweet smile… god, how Jack had missed that smile, rare at any time but absolutely denied for too damn long… and the archeologist said, “Good thing it was me and not you, then. So, Jack. Did you bring me anything?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Jack crawled over the back of his seat for his pack, fished in the pouches and pulled out a chocolate bar. Daniel grinned. An honest-to-God full-on dimpled Jackson grin. God, how he’d missed that, too.

“Well, thanks, Jack, but I actually meant anything you have on SG2’s mission. You know, like a briefing? Tapes, notes, anything on the planet’s culture… anything on the language? A report on what exactly happened?”

“Oh, yeah, right.” Feeling vaguely foolish (and he remembered now, no one on Earth, hell, no one in the universe could make him feel foolish except for this man. Stupid yes, half the SGC could make him feel stupid, but foolish? Only Daniel), Jack opened the chained black leather briefcase with the top-secret seal, and pulled out the briefing package.

Inside were the original briefing notes, the one status report Ferretti had transmitted via MALP before it all went wahoonie-shaped, and the tapes made by the SG2 mission specialist: linguist Captain Sally Linus. Tapes of the ruins that were the mission target were included along with copious tapes of SG2’s interaction with the natives, in hopes that someone back at base would be able to get a handle on the spoken language.

“Linus…” Daniel frowned. “I don’t know her, do I? New?” He was very reluctant to actually ask what had happened to Jeff Schultz, who had been SG2’s civilian specialist, well versed in both archeology and ancient languages. Jack merely shrugged his agreement, unwilling to explain further with the company hanging on every word.

Jack pulled out the seat video monitor on Daniel’s chair, and nodded to Davis to set up the play unit.

Daniel munched thoughtfully on his chocolate bar as he carefully opened the folders of written material, laboriously twitching his glasses and shifting the angle of his head and eyes, struggling with the one usable spot of visual clarity. Jack took as much of that as he could before he swallowed an oath and bolted from his seat, bumping Rohrbeck viciously on his way back to the galley to pour a couple of coffees. Davis was there, standing at the video playback unit, loading in the tapes that came with the briefing package, and scowling at the NID bastards with as much murderous intent as Jack felt. The Colonel was practically hyperventilating to get his emotions under control. He counted to ten, then ten again, then another… At last, he returned, nudging a mug of coffee by Daniel’s elbow.

Daniel smiled. “Thanks, Jack.”

Jack sighed, gently closing the folders and pulling off those fucking pathetic excuses for glasses. “Leave that till you can actually read it, okay? The seat monitor is too small for you too, isn’t it? Davis says he can get the main cabin monitor rolled down and connected to the playback for you in a few. Review the tapes all you want. Hammond will have proper glasses ready for you when we land. ‘Kay?”

“I can manage with these, Jack…”

“No. You can’t. Well, actually, I can’t, and if I have to watch you fumbling with those damned things for one more second, I’m gonna have to blow something up. Okay?”

Daniel tried to suppress a grin as he glanced at the NID bastards, their leader in grey and two of the black-clad minions smirking and gloating offensively while eavesdropping blatantly on every word. The third MIB, linebacker-sized with vivid red hair shorn marine-short, seemed to be buried in some kind of manual, and Daniel would lay odds it was just a mask and actually held the latest Playboy. Daniel also struggled with his worst nature, liking the idea of Jack taking at least Rohrbeck apart out of sheer frustration. Daniel remembered Rohrbeck. The son of a bitch had taken his last pair of proper glasses and ground them under his heel, before ordering him to share yard exercise with Colonel Makepeace and his renegades. 

Davis got the main cabin screen rolled down, got it lit up with the remote control in Daniel’s hand, and the archeologist began reviewing the tapes. Both Jack and Davis were familiar with the way he worked, how meticulously he took notes, reviewing a tape of archeological or cultural data frame by frame, sometimes… it was almost an hour before he noted Jack and Davis were now the ones smirking and gloating offensively… at the bored-to-madness, ready-to-scream expressions on the NID bastards. One NID guy had retreated to the toilet. The second whimpered softly to himself. The one with the manual hiked his shoulders further and further, in a vain attempt to cut out the surrounding noise. Rohrbeck, clearly made of sterner stuff, sat and glowered. With an MP3 player plugged into his ears, so he wasn’t all that tough, apparently.

Oh.

Daniel slowed down his excruciating attention to detail still further, running back to the beginning of the tape… again. Short of launching into a full-volume rendition of ‘One Thousand Bottles of Beer on the Wall’, he knew of no better way to drive the NID bastards completely nuts. Petty? Sure. But satisfying.

Jack leaned forward and began in a conversational tone, “We hear on the grape-vine that you have a new nickname around the NID water cooler.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. They call you Moby Daniel.”

“And this would be because…?”

“When the first two jerks who interrogated you failed to get squat, they were fired. The third was broken down to second louie. It was second lieutenant, wasn’t it, Rohrbeck? It’s hard to tell because you’re in civvies today.”

Rohrbeck glowered even harder, grumbling, “Captain.”

“Known these days as Captain Ahab. After that,” Jack continued cheerily, “getting assigned to your interrogations became the equivalent of being re-assed to Siberia or Greenland. Usually right after those fatal words, ‘Come on, he’s an *archeologist* for God’s sake, how hard could it be?’ Which, by an amazing coincidence, also happen to be the fatal last words of several dead false gods we have known and loved to hate.”

“So… what you’re saying is… I’m now the NID version of hazing?”

Jack’s whole face lit up in that famous, never-to-be-forgotten O’Neill shit-eating grin. “And I’m just *so* proud, Space-monkey.”

Daniel couldn’t help but grin right back. And then he laughed. The first time he’d laughed in more than three months, and mean it. It had been so long, in fact, that his chest hurt and his cheeks ached from disused muscles protesting the unaccustomed exercise.

But, enough of the levity. He had work to do. And, oh, how good that felt. How he had missed…. Never mind. No sooner had his sore, over-strained eyes returned to the screen, replaying the MALP tape again, than he was lost in another world, another culture.

P4X 391 was, at first glance, an idyllic world, green and lush with forests, meadows, tilled fields, grazing beasts that might almost be mistaken for sheep, if they had been half the size, and without the long prehensile trunks. A fair-sized village, population between two and five thousand at a guess, clustered against the walls of a ruined city. And therein lay the *raison d’etre* of SG2’s mission. From the half-eroded symbols on an obelisk set before the Stargate, this was apparently a long-abandoned site of the Furlings. Only the third planet they had found with evidence of that vanished race, one of the Four from the Great Alliance with the Asgard, Ancients and the Nox. The first line of the original mission briefing identified this address as one from Jack’s list, the Stargate map downloaded into his brain with the Ancients’ Archive. With a chance that there might be advanced toys hidden or abandoned the Goa’uld had not yet got to, the fact that there was a resident population had not deterred them from sending a team, although the language and culture of the locals was clearly unknown. Daniel frowned, having searched in vain for any hint that the author of the briefing thought the residents might be kin to the Furlings, and therefore worth contacting on their own merit. Assumption was that the locals were too primitive, not worth negotiating with, but definitely worth stealing from. 

As soon as the MALP had gone through, it had drawn a small, appreciative audience. First the wooly mini-mammoths, then some herders, then some village elders, none of the humans seeming too well pleased at the incursion. 

SG2 must have known they were walking into potential trouble. It was common for remnant human populations to venerate, or even worship such ruins in their midst as sacred ground, evidence of god-like powers extended to their ancestors. Chance visitors were generally viewed with suspicion, especially if there had been Goa’uld interference in their history, and almost always forbidden access to the site in fear of desecration – at least until extensive and careful negotiations had successfully propitiated the local leaders. But this time, the lure of advanced technology dangled before the SGC had been too great.

Not allowed to delve further into the written reports for the time being, Daniel concentrated on the dialect of the locals, recorded by MALP and Captain Linus’ camera at the village square, attempting to deal with the elders – if that’s who they were. And, even though he didn’t really need to, he stopped and rewound various short conversations one word at a time, just for the sheer joy of hearing Rohrbeck and his goons groan.

At last, even Jack’s capacity to endure the initial greeting one more time caused him to lean over and slap the stop button on Daniel’s remote.

“Since you can’t read it yet, let me give you the highlights of the one and only sitrep we have,” Jack volunteered. “SG2 departed on their mission to P4X 391 Tuesday at 0900, per orders. They arrived safely, met a delegation from the nearby village. They offered gifts, but the villagers were less than enthused. Captain Linus went into the usual ‘peaceful explorers, never mind about the guys with the big guns’ spiel, just the way you taught us. Didn’t go over much better this time than it usually does. They took a stab at charades, Linus taping that stuff, as everyone moved to the village square. Ferretti sent Sgt Brown to take a look at the ruins. As long as no one tried to actually go through the archway in the old walls, everything was copasetic. But when Ferretti had to report to Hammond twelve hours later, they’d made no headway with communications or negotiations. So Hammond gave the command to enter the ruin anyway.” 

Daniel groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed glumly. “Not the best move we could have made.”

“Let me guess. Hammond had someone from either the Pentagon or the NID at his elbow, breathing down his neck and calling the shots.”

“Oh yeah. An ex-major second louie by the name of Rohrbeck, as it happens.”

Daniel couldn’t resist a contemptuous glance at the man. “You jerk. You had to know how stupid that was, and if you didn’t, Hammond would have told you himself. But you went ahead and forced the issue anyway?”

Rohrbeck didn’t comment, but the grinding of teeth could be heard over the background noise of a jet in flight. Then Jack caught a flash of a grin, from the NID guy with his nose in the magazine, as if one of old Jimbo’s minions wasn’t as 110% behind the boss as the others. But maybe it was imagination, or a particularly good Spy vrs Spy cartoon in the Mad Magazine the guy was perusing inside that manual. (Another mark in his favor, by the way, Jack acknowledged reluctantly, unwilling to like even one NID agent.) 

“So,” Jack resumed, “Ferretti gathers up SG2, they march to the ruin gates, force through the big brass doors – and no, they aren’t brass, but some special alloy, God knows what it really is – and the villagers go nuts. They sweep in, surround SG2, with pitchforks and rusty swords, and some real impressive hand-made cross-bows, and force our guys back to the village square. They escort Linus, the only female on SG2 - and the only one with a hope in hell of understanding the locals - to the Stargate and toss her ass back through, with a long message we still can’t translate, and then they dismantle the MALP, with clubs. Big, big clubs. They’ve dismantled everything else we’ve sent through since. And here we are.”

“Do we know if the rest of SG2 are still alive?”

“We know Ferretti was alive at 0600 yesterday morning. That’s when we sent through the last MALP, and the village elders were there to meet it with Ferretti in tow. He… uh… didn’t look too good. They’d roughed him up some, took his BDU’s, left him in his underwear. Boxers, in case you’re wondering, bright red with little Santas on them. I’m hoping it was a gift in his stocking. He tucks left. But he managed to give us a thumbs-up high sign and flashed a four – we’re taking that to mean the rest of his team is okay. Then the locals screamed out something and smashed the MALP. We’ve got the last message in this package somewhere, and we’re hoping it’s instructions for an exchange.”

Daniel nodded, rolling through the clips until he found the one Jack described. Ferretti looked dirty, his knees and elbows scuffed up, dark patches on his torso that might have been bruises or mud, a cut or two on his forehead, but nothing immediately life-threatening. Daniel turned up the volume to listen as the main elder – the guy with the longest beard and most elaborately embroidered tunic – stepped before the MALP to issue a clear challenge. 

“So. You got a handle on the lingo?”

“Um… maybe. Give me a chance here, Jack. You know how languages move around after millennia of isolation and separate development, and I’d say this one has been cut off and progressing on its own for at least two thousand years, probably a lot longer. If it even has an Earth root at all, which isn’t a guarantee.”

Jack nodded and settled back, careful not to glance at the NID bastards.

Daniel made copious notes in the pristine new journal Jack had luckily supplied, none of them in English. He had at one time devised a private code for himself, using Furling script and the Universal Language of the Elements Ernest Littlefield had found on Heliopolis. Since no one else – no one, but, possibly, Ernest – had any interest in or knowledge of either language, Daniel’s secrets were safe.

Sure enough, Rohrbeck, the jerk, made several excuses to lean over his shoulder and try to read what he’d written and when that didn’t work, he just yanked the notebook out of Daniel’s hands.

Jack shouted an angry, “Hey! Give that back!”

But Daniel pulled his friend back with just a touch on his arm. “Never mind, Jack. I’ve got it all in my head. Rohrbeck here is fond of confiscating my stuff. I guess it keeps him amused. And since he doesn’t read it when it’s in English, I fail to see why he should care when it isn’t.”

Rohrbeck swore under his breath after leafing through a few pages, then tossed it nastily back. Jack intercepted it on the fly before it slammed into Daniel’s face.

“And they wonder why no one loves them,” Jack growled.

Rohrbeck demanded, “All right, Jackson. Enough of this. Suppose you tell me what they’re saying? You know Akkadian, right? Or are you going to clam up about this, too?”

“Hold on there, Ahab,” Jack interposed. “What’s your goddamned hurry? Daniel will tell us what he knows at the official briefing, and not before.”

“If he knows now, why not say?”

“Because I don’t trust you further than I could comfortably spit out a rat. He says anything now, and you’ll drag his ass back to Langley and bury him deep. No way is that going to happen. We need him with us at the SGC to prep for the mission, and we’ll need him as part of our S&R team. So back the hell off. And, oh, by the way. You let me catch you even *looking* at him funny, and you’ll be disembarking considerably before we land this bird. Depending how I feel at the time, I may or may not let you have a parachute for the ride down. Get me?”

A sort of détente settled over the cabin for the remainder of the trip, with Jack and Davis flanking Daniel, glowering at the NID bastards, and the NID bastards (all but the red-headed guy lost in his magazine) glowering right back, while Daniel himself ignored all of them, continuing to beaver away at the tapes.

Å


	3. Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch...

Å 

Two black, stretch limos were waiting at the airfield when they landed, flanked by military hummers front and back, loaded with SFs in khaki bearing the SGC crest on their shoulder patches. A squad of SFs were on the tarmac ready to roll out the gantry, two with the requested wheelchair, only waiting for the plane hatch to open to lift their visitor down the steps and into the chair for safe transport to the limos. There was also an unmarked black van with more NID bastards waiting to flesh out Rohrbeck’s complement of minions. 

Jack had no real hope that he, Davis and Daniel would be left one limo to themselves – Rohrbeck was not about to let Daniel out of his sight, even for the short trip to Cheyenne Mountain. 

Their driver, who helped load Daniel gingerly into the back then folded the chair to load in the trunk, was apparently well known to the prisoner. 

“Sgt Capp? Good to see you again. How did Mae make out with her competition?”

“Doctor J? Glad to have you back, sir. Mae did great. Won the State Championship. Got herself a scholarship. That music you suggested… that’s what did the trick, we all think so.”

“Oh, now…”

“Hell, yeah. Everyone else was either playing Nutcracker Suite or Bolero. You know how aggravating that can be, the seventeenth time you hear that damned Ravel thing over the PA? Then Mae came out with the Wakefield ‘War of the Worlds’ piece… got Lt. Stevenson to make a really good recording for us, stripped off the voice and Richard Burton’s dialogue for ‘Autumn Leaves’ and ‘Thunderchild’… worked great. She bowled them over.”

“I’m glad, Sgt.”

Rohrbeck was practically chewing the upholstery by that point, as the limo sped along the deserted mountain roads. “Does he do that every damned time?” he growled. 

Jack grinned. “You mean, make friends? Oh yeah. You know it’s in his job description, right? Make nice with all the aliens we meet on our first contact team? There’s no one better at it. Well, there wasn’t, when he was still allowed to do his job… You must have read about the Unas thing, right? And the Oannes? Big stinky monsters, walking sushi… putty in his hands. Never saw it fail yet… except with nazi aliens, and NID goons too stupid to live.”

It was rare – almost unheard of for the commander of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex Facility to meet guests at the ground-level security station. But there was General Hammond, in full dress uniform, saluting as Daniel was pulled from the limo and settled in the wheelchair. Behind him were many other familiar faces, albeit a trifle grim at the moment, serious, and all giving him a full salute. Daniel ducked his head to hide his reaction, the tightening in his throat and the sting in his over-strained eyes. 

Jack hovering just behind, leaned over. “You okay there, Danny?”

“Sure. Sure. Just… got something in my eye,” he choked out, praying he didn’t totally embarrass himself. 

But George was already stepping forward. “Dr. Jackson. It’s good to have you back with us, son. Very good.” 

Daniel wasn’t sure how to take that… it sounded like General Hammond was willfully denying the nature of his temporary reprieve. But before Daniel could give this his consideration, the General went pyroclastic. 

“What the hell are the meaning of *these*?” he demanded of the NID agent in charge, rattling Daniel’s manacles. Pure appalled horror was in the man’s face as he turned to Jack. “They didn’t leave these on him all the way from Langley?”

“They did, sir,” Jack informed grimly.

Rohrbeck was unwise enough to interject a comment here. “This man is in my custody, General, and I am responsible for…”

“I’m not overly impressed with your idea of ‘responsibility’, Captain. Get them off. Now.”

“Sir, regulations state—“

“I am not accustomed to having to give a direct order twice, Lieutenant.”

“Sir that’s Cap--… yes sir.”

Keys came out and the manacles came off, and Daniel simply could not resist milking the situation, by giving a little sigh of relief, and rubbing his wrists. Of course, they were reddened and irritated under the stiff hard leather and the weight of the iron… The torque in the combined fury present in the SGC personal gathered to watch cranked just a half turn tighter.

General Hammond spoke to Daniel. “Dr. Warner is waiting for you in the infirmary, Doctor. I’ll speak with you again after he’s completed your physical.” Jack yielded the handles of the wheelchair to Capp, who took Daniel away. They were accompanied closely by Rohrbeck’s NID muscle.

Hammond straightened, giving Jack and Davis a look, then dismissed his people before turning to Rohrbeck. “I want to see my officers in my office. You, Captain, are dismissed until the mission briefing, and I don’t want to see any sign of you anywhere near me until that time. And, let me warn you, Captain, if I have any reports of Dr. Jackson receiving any ill-treatment at the hands of you or your men while he is on this base, I’ll have you thrown off the Mountain. And I mean off the top of the Mountain, into the deepest gorge I can find. Is that clear?”

Rohrbeck, to give him credit, did not totally lose his nerve. “General, whatever you think of me, I am acting under orders, for the good of this country. That man is withholding information vital to the defense of this nation, this world. Correct me if I’m wrong, Sir, but that *is* the mandate of the SGC, is it not? To retrieve technology that can defend this planet from its enemies? And if we can’t trust Dr. Jackson to do that, then, with respect, Sir, it doesn’t matter a damn how good at his job or how smart he might be, he’s no damn use to us! The specs he and SG12 found on P5X303 are for a device that could be the ultimate weapon in our war with the Goa’uld. By withholding his translation, Dr. Jackson has made himself a traitor to this nation and the world. We are completely justified in using any and all means at our disposal to force his compliance with the national interest.”

General Hammond fumed. “Be that as it may, this is neither the time nor the place to re-hash all this. But justified or not, you will act within my parameters for the care and treatment of all personnel while you are in my facility. Do you understand me, Captain?”

“With respect, Sir,” Rohrbeck grated out with the very minimum of observable respect, “I am neither under your jurisdiction nor command, and you have no influence with my superiors to threaten or intimidate me.”

“Oh haven’t I. Since you insist on having this out here, let me tell you that a *full* report of this entire affair is already with your superiors and mine, and I have made it abundantly clear that it was your insistence and bad judgment, in the teeth of strenuous officially logged objections, that resulted in the current mess in which we find ourselves. Including the necessity of forcing your superiors to allow the participation of Dr. Jackson to pull our collective asses out of the fire. When I’m done with you, son, you’ll consider the rank of private a promotion.”

With that, the General, his aides, his 2IC and Pentagon liaison swept away to the elevators, trailed by the rest of the SGC contingent, leaving Rohrbeck to glower and wait for an elevator to return for he and his remaining minions. 

Å 

Dr. Warner finished his examination, then sedated the patient, typed out his report in a white heat of fury. He e-mailed one copy to the General, printed two more copies, one for the files and one for himself, then stormed to his commander’s office, to add personal emphasis to the written and officially logged conclusions. He found Colonel O’Neill and Major Davis both in attendance.

“Dr. Jackson is sleeping, as comfortably as I’ve been able to make him, with a *full* complement of guards…” Dr. Warner swept a hand through his thinning hair as he struggled to get himself under control. Five NID agents and two SGC SFs had seemed excessive, since the man under guard couldn’t stand upright unaided and was now sleeping peacefully and under sedation, so Warner had exerted his authority and kicked all but one NID and one SF out of his infirmary. He was prepared to allow parity in the rival groups claiming jurisdiction over his patient, but that was it. 

General Hammond closed his eyes briefly. “I think we’re aware that Dr. Jackson is not in the best of health, Doctor. Even I could see that much. But can he be cleared for the mission?”

Dr. Warner almost writhed in his chair. “Sir, I… in any other circumstances, sir, I would have that young man wheeled into surgery, immediately, to repair that knee, then I’d have him in a cast and traction for a month, and prescribe a minimum of six months physio-therapy after that before he has a chance for full use of that leg. And as for the wound to his stomach…”

“What wound?” Jack roared.

“There’s a knife wound to his lower right abdomen. As nearly as I can tell, it was never properly treated. When I questioned him about it, Dr. Jackson said it happened two months ago. I believe his excessive loss of weight must be at least partially due to that. I have no idea how serious the damage is without more tests, and perhaps exploratory surgery for that as well. Sir, the broken knee was never treated either, left to heal without ever being properly set… it will have to be broken and re-set and the ligatures re-attached at the very least, and that’s just to minimize the pain he must be in. The knee brace they’ve given him is a joke, and the crutches are the wrong size… Sir, in any other circumstances, I would be yelling blue murder at Langley and the Pentagon for cruel and inhumane treatment contrary to the Geneva Convention, and hauling any medical professional who has seen that man before the AMA to have their god-damned licenses revoked. But I can’t do that, because, according to Dr. Jackson, the NID have ordered that he not be allowed to see any medical professionals. They’ve denied him eye-glasses, pain killers, god knows what else. Sir, I… I… words fail me! I wouldn’t treat a mad *dog* like this!”

General Hammond’s jaw worked, and he gave just a glance at his 2IC and Pentagon liaison to ensure they kept their silence in front of the doctor. “I understand your anger, Doctor. I assure you, I am in full agreement, and I will be sending a copy of your report and its conclusions to the proper channels. And by God, I’ll make sure the President himself reads it and understands just what it implies. But my question to you was, can Dr. Jackson go on this mission without fatal consequences to himself.”

Dr. Warner took more deep breaths. “How far is the village from the Gate sir? Two miles? As he is, even with the new brace and crutches I’ve ordered from the Academy Medical Center, I’d say every step of those two miles will be agony for him. As long as he’s on base, he’ll be using a wheel chair, by my order. I can supply him with pain-killers for the mission, but it will still be slow and arduous travel for him. Apart from that… I guess any other medical intervention can wait until he returns. Provided we get to keep him with us.”

Hammond nodded. “What if we supply transport of some kind? An ATV or similar?”

“That would be preferable, sir, yes.”

“Very well then, I’ll see to it. Thank you, doctor. Where is he now?”

“I’ve sedated him, sir. The journey from Langley exhausted him – in his weakened state, and with the pain he’s in from both the knee and his knife wound, he hasn’t much resistance. He’ll sleep for a few hours.”

“Good. Thank you, Doctor. When he awakes, tell him we’ve made his old office available to him. All the briefing materials he needs will be there waiting for him. I’ve scheduled Mission Briefing for tomorrow at 0900, with the mission itself for 1100, providing the team is ready.”

“Yes sir. I’ll let Dr. Jackson know.”

Dr. Warner left the office, still seething. The three Air Force officers exchanged telling glances. 

“Your assessment, Jack?” Hammond asked.

“He’s got that Kelowna look in his eyes, Sir. You know the one. ‘I’ve done what I had to, I have no regrets, so now I’ll take the consequences and I won’t whine about it.’ And the thing is… he may be right this time.”

Hammond nodded sadly. “It wouldn’t be for the first time, would it, Colonel?”

“No sir. It would not.”

General Hammond said, “Gentlemen, you have your orders. Dismissed.”

Colonel O’Neill and Major Davis saluted smartly, and left the office, even more incensed than the SGC’s Chief Medical Officer.

Once alone, leafing back over the medical report in front of him, the General set his mouth grimly and reached for the phone. The red one. In the past three months it had gotten a lot of use, at least from this end, and more than once the President had threatened to have it disconnected, although he didn’t quite dare go that far just yet. But this time, Hammond had hard physical evidence of what amounted to atrocity, against a citizen of the United States of America who had never been charged with any offense, had, in fact, risked his life, *given* his life many times, in defense of his nation and his world.

“Christ, George, not again!”

“Yes, Mr. President. Again, and again, until you listen to reason. I just e-mailed you the medical report on Dr. Jackson. I warn you, it will turn your stomach. It certainly turns mine. Remember what Oma Desala told you, sir. You still have time to make a choice that will prevent a further deterioration in our position with our allies. But very soon now, the choice is going to be taken out of your hands. God help you, God help us all, if it’s because that young man is dead and beyond anyone’s help. But you might reflect that once this is over, no matter what the outcome, you stand a very real risk of eroding not only the good will of our friends, but the loyalty, respect and sense of duty of every member of this command. It may indeed already be too late.”

“Is that an ultimatum, George?”

“No, Mr. President. It’s a warning. You would do well to heed it, while you still have a chance.”

Å 

When Jack finally had some time free, he went looking for Daniel in the Infirmary. But it seemed the SGC’s ex-premier archeologist had sprung himself. Not to catch up on much-needed sleep in the VIP suite assigned to him, however. Jack knew his friend far too well for that. Instead he aimed his search to Daniel’s old stomping ground.

Jack wasn’t sure what he would find in the office that was still the heart of the SGC, even though the chair and couch and computer, the books and artifacts and well-used coffee maker, all waited for their rightful owner to return to them. It was more shrine than office, he thought as he turned down the familiar corridor. But there were strangers outside the open door. One was in the SGC SF uniform, and Jack could put a name to that face if he tied hard enough… Sgt. Worth, that was it. But the other was in a severe black suit, and was a total stranger, but still recognizable as kind… NID. Both struggled not to look bored out of their skulls. But at least they were out in the hall, not defiling Daniel’s sanctuary with their presence and all it implied. Jack returned their salutes and sauntered past them. Even with the ominous presence looming, the colonel grinned widely. Daniel must be within.

This room was still a haven for many in the facility. The smell of old books and musty artifacts permeated what should have been a cold steel-and-concrete cubical, no different from any other in the underground bunker. And, Jack believed somewhat whimsically, the spirit of Daniel Jackson dwelled here, warmed this place, making it unique within Cheyenne Mountain. It had certainly been so during his year Ascended, when many, including its temporary occupant, Kelownan Jonas Quinn, claimed they had felt him there. And this past three months, there wasn’t a day go by when someone wasn’t in here, dusting, cleaning, straightening… keeping the spirit alive. 

Now, Daniel sat in a wheel-chair, at his desk, right where he belonged, where he ought to be, hunched over a computer, eyes hidden by the mirrored surface of his proper, pristine glasses, reflecting the screen’s glow. Jack smiled, feeling the universe slide back into its rightful place after months of unutterable wrong-ness.

“Hey, Daniel. Watcha doin’?”

Daniel didn’t even glance up. “Jack. Studying the briefing materials. Preparing a briefing report. You know. The usual.”

“Uh-hunh. Thinking of getting any sleep before the briefing?”

“Too much to do.”

“How about eating, then?”

“Warner had them bring me something in the Infirmary.”

“And did you actually *eat* any of it?”

“Yes, I did. Warner made it an ultimatum, said he’d get out the feeding tube if I didn’t.” 

“Ah. So… I can’t talk you into taking a break?”

Daniel sighed and stretched, only now swiveling his chair around to face Jack, who was making himself at home on the couch. The archeologist glanced warily at the open door, and the shadows of his guards.

“Yeah, I know, we have to keep it clean for the little pitchers out there,” Jack said wryly. 

Daniel nodded, frowning and took off his glasses, eyes clenched shut as he used one hand to rub the creases over the bridge of his nose. “Maybe this would be a good time to catch up… you know, on what’s been going on around here while I’ve been gone?”

Jack could hear the fear and tension in his friend, and knew its cause. Two members of the old SG1 were missing and unaccounted for… 

“What’s been going on. Right. Well. The place pretty much went to hell when you left. For a start, we had to cut back the number of teams to ten.” 

“Why?”

“Well, Daniel, see, you need mission specialists along when there’s ruins or technology or indigenous persons who don’t speak English, and the SGC doesn’t have a lot of those left. Almost all the civilians walked out the day Hammond announced you’d been arrested…”

“I wasn’t arrested. I was taken into custody. There’s a difference.”

“And that would be…?”

“I wasn’t charged with a crime, so I can’t have a trial. If I’d been arrested, I could have called a lawyer, and found some way of either getting myself released or serving my time. No such luck.”

“Ah. Well, anyway… where was I? Oh yeah. The civilians. They all quit. Walked out on us. And although no one violated the official secrets act, they got the word out pretty damn quick that if the SGC came knocking, it was better not to be home, no matter how much money was on offer. Apart from Nyan, who wouldn’t leave while there was a chance you might come back…”

“I knew about Nyan. He was in earlier, to bring me some references.” And to give Daniel a fervent hug in greeting, and try to hint at plans and wheels in motion, all in an obscure dialect Nyan had once taught Daniel and Teal’c. As with Earth, the original language of the Pharaohs on Bedrosia had been lost, destroyed, forgotten, buried in sand, only to be dug up centuries later, the written symbols only partially deciphered, with only guesses as to the original pronunciation. It was this twice-removed version that Nyan used and actually managed to get a lot of information in before the NID guard poked his head through the door to object.

“Right. Well, apart from him, we’ve got three civilian linguists on staff right now, and none of them can speak Goa’uld worth a damn, let alone anything else. I’m talking brain dead, bottom-of-the-barrel, here, and they’re scared stiff of all of us, let alone going through the Gate. The military linguists we transferred in can handle living languages, but none of the dead ones.”

“Lucky you’ve got Teal’c, then.”

“Ah. About that.”

Daniel sat stiff in alarm, “What’s wrong with Teal’c?”

“Nothing! As far as we know… we think he’s with Bra’tac and Rya’c, leading the Jaffa rebellion.”

“You *think*?”

“We didn’t know what had happened to you, beyond the fact you were arr--... sorry, taken into custody. Tried everyone we knew in Washington, all of us, Hammond, me, Carter and Davis, and got nowhere. Then, when we finally got our asses to the White House to ask some questions in person, this slimy NID SOB showed up at the SGC asking about you. Looking for leverage. He said you were their guest, and would stay their guest until you became more co-operative, and could anybody suggest a way to twist your arm. At which point Teal’c lost it. Went berserk. Apparently (and we kept the security tapes on this so you can enjoy them as much as the rest of us all did), it took a dozen SFs to drag him off the NID guy, who was an interesting shade of grey for about an hour after, and developed some spectacular bruises, but his eye was never pulled out of the socket no matter what anyone says, although he did lose a finger. And at that, the guy was damned lucky Teal’c wanted him alive for interrogation. But more NID worms showed up to interrupt the chat before he found out where you were. Ended up, they ordered Teal’c arrested, but no one here was stupid enough to try to stop him getting away through the Gate. He dialed up the Land of Light & stalked out, shouting all the way about the lousy, stinking Shol’va Tau’ri scum. Not twenty-four hours later, Bra’tac dials up, and tells us the lousy, stinking Shol’va Tau’ri scum can go to hell if they don’t know how to treat their heroes – meaning you, by the way, in case you didn’t know – and we should forget we ever knew him. Tuplo seconded that… Princess Melosia still has a soft spot for ya, you know.”

“Oh. Um…”

There was silence. A long, drawn-out, pregnant silence. 

“You going to ask about Carter?”

“Um… I think I’m afraid to.”

“She lasted another three missions, then they sent her with SG12 to look at some honkin’ big shiny gadget they found… she looked at it for about four hours, not moving a muscle, just looking. Then she came back, and went straight to the General. Said you were right, she didn’t trust us with the really good toys either, and she wasn’t going to play any more. The General thought about it for a minute, then told her to go with SG5, on a diplomatic mission. Then he stood up, saluted her and said it was a pleasure serving with her, and he’d relay her regards to me. And that when the political climate improved, he’d send the word out to haul her ass back in. Until that time, she was to consider herself on official SGC business for him, and not to show her face anywhere SG teams might see it. We think she’s off with Jacob. And yes, the Tok’ra have also broken off relations with us, citing something about lousy, stinking Shol’va Tau’ri scum.”

“I’m sensing a pattern here.”

“Every time we call the Asgard, we get the same question thrown at us first, ‘where is Dr. Jackson’. And since we don’t want to answer that, we haven’t been calling them a lot lately, either. Every ally we’ve got out there who’s heard has given us the raspberry, along with the whole lousy stinking Tau’ri scum thing – which we now refer to as LSTS. We’ve been kicked off three planets where we had mining operations, including Tonani’s people and that one with the Unas guys. Your buddy Iron Shirt went just about purple with rage when he heard. As for Chaka… jeez, Danny, you’d be proud. We got a call from him, and he said, in perfect, well, almost perfect growly English, ‘I wish to negotiate for Daniel to be turned over to me.’ All that time you were learning from him, he was picking up English from you. Of course, the NID wouldn’t go for it, and Chaka cursed us blue for thirty-eight solid minutes, until his end of the Gate shut down, but… Oh, and you know the real kicker? The Kelownans… sorry, the Langarans. They got wind of it too, and Jonas Quinn called up.”

Daniel smiled faintly. “You must have loved that.”

“Oh yeah. The little snot finally getting his own back… but what he really said was…” Jack stopped and took a deep breath, “’I thought better of you, Colonel.’”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. True, though.”

“Jack… none of this is your fault. I got myself into it. All of it.”

“Ya think?”

“Yes, I think. It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s not about you.”

“No. It’s a matter of conscience. I understand that. But what the NID is doing to you… it’s not right. It isn’t. And everyone in the universe seems to know it except the bastards who’re holding your leash.”

Daniel shifted uneasily. “The Goa’uld…”

“Should be descending on us any day, right? Wrong. Seems the President of the United States had a little visit from your favorite glowy being.”

“Oma?” Daniel blinked.

“Scared the hell out of him and a full complement of secret service guards, apparently. Would have paid to see that… she hi-jacked him to one of those mental rooms of hers for a little heart-to-heart, and I gather she didn’t think much of his intelligence, because she kept it straight and simple, none of those Zen baffle-gab things she always springs on us. She told him that as long as your heart was beating, you still belonged to us, and the Earth would be protected from the Goa’uld for your sake, by the old Alliance of the Four Races – which means she must have been twisting the Asgard little spindly grey arms. But once your heart ceased to beat, you were hers, and she was taking you back, and the Earth would be on its own.”

Daniel stared at the wall. “I won’t go back to the Others. She knows that.”

“Yeah, I think she does. I think she was just providing you with a bit of insurance, in her own non-interfering glowy way.”

“I guess… that does explain why…” Daniel stopped himself, glancing fleetingly at Jack, a wary look in his eyes. Jack winced, guessing what the archeologist left unsaid.

“Why they stopped throwing you in with Makepeace and his goons?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Jesus, Danny… it’s a mess. I think the President would cave if he could, but he’s running scared of Kinsey and his crowd. And Kinsey is wailing about ‘alien conspiracies’… ‘the US must not bend to foreign influence of any kind’… he seems to think our allies are all in cahoots to get you sprung.”

Daniel smiled at that. “Alien conspiracies? They’ve been watching too many X-Files reruns.”

“Mm. Anyway… Before the election we at least had a chance that maybe we could shake the rat-bastard off… But now that Kinsey is our Vice-President Elect… Four more years of him, minimum. Hammond has been forced to take some chances in order to keep the program viable.”

“The Lost City? Anubis?”

“Not even looking for the City, and doing all we can to avoid Nuby. It’s the Kinsey agenda all the way… all we’re looking for is bigger and better toys, and we’re not supposed to be fussy how we get them. And even at that, we don’t have the expertise to recognize gold from pyrite out there, or to talk to anyone we meet. That’s why SG2 went out without a proper linguist. And look where it got us. Jesus, Daniel, but we need you back. We *need* you. We never realized how much until… even the year you were dead for tax reasons wasn’t as bad as this. No one blamed us for that. No one held it against us. Just an accident… But this… this is bad. This has damn near broken all of us. Those of us who stayed around to keep the fires lit have gotten the message – be careful what we bring back, what we report we found. Don’t make it sound too good or too much. We haven’t sent out an archeology or diplomatic team since we lost you. The whole damn project is grinding to a halt, and we’re all just about ready to let it go. And every ally we made… every ally *you* made for us, thinks we’re the lowest of the low. LSTS yadda yadda. And how can we argue that? It’s true.”

“So. What you’re really saying is… I managed to do what Ra, Apophis, Kinsey, the NID and all the System Lords together couldn’t. I’ve destroyed the Stargate Program.” 

“Christ, Daniel, don’t even go there. You’re the victim in all this. Kinsey and that whole stinking NID bunch were looking for anything they could get that would bring down the SGC. If it hadn’t been this, it would have been something else. Just a matter of time. You know that, right?”

“Right. Of course. But the fact remains, it was me who gave them their chance. Me.”

“You, and me, and Hammond. It wasn’t just an excuse they needed, Daniel. They had to wait until Hammond and me were out of the picture too. Hammond in Washington for meetings, me with the rest of SG1 on that run to the Tok’ra, and you on your own with SG12.”

Daniel nodded, as if agreeing… until he gave an angry shout and picked up a coffee mug to hurl against the wall. 

“My God, Jack, after all we’ve done, all we’ve paid in blood and lives… Sha’re, Kowalsky, Abydos, Janet… My God, Janet… to have it all end like this!”

For a fatal moment he forgot about his leg and tried to stand… and with more of a scream than a shout, he collapsed on the floor. The two guards rushed in, but Jack was already kneeling, helping Daniel sit. It took all three men to get Daniel upright, but Jack had them settle him on the couch rather than his wheel-chair. Typical Daniel, he refused to let any of them call the Infirmary. He barely let Jack shake out one of Warner’s little pain pills for him to dry-swallow. Doubtfully obeying Jack’s silent signal for them to return to their posts, the two guards left the office. 

“Daniel. You okay?”

“I’m fine, Jack. I will be,” Daniel promised, his voice harsh and strained. “The pain is okay,” Daniel assured his friend, a faint smile on his drawn face, his eyes tight closed as he breathed his way through it. “The pain is good. The pain is my friend.” It had the sound of a mantra, and one that had been used so often it was almost one word.

“Daniel. The pain is your friend?”

“Oh, definitely. Sometimes it was the only way I could tell I was still… there. Still alive. Oh boy. What the hell is in these little pills of Warner’s? Truth serum? Blood of Sokar? Won’t work, you know. Didn’t tell the NID anything when they tried it, either. Just giggled a bit, and gave ‘em my lecture. You know the one, the one that got me kicked out of academia and straight into Catherine’s waiting arms. I remember it, word for word. I have a very good memory.” 

“Daniel…” 

“They tried threats and coercion first. Threatened to arrest me, try me for treason. I actually wanted them to do that, to give me a chance to have my say in public, my day in court. I have more faith in the justice system than I do in them. Which is how I knew they would never allow it. I knew they were just bluffing. Then they started threatening… the people I… care about. Retiring Hammond, court-martialing you, sending Teal’c and Sam God knows where… Like that was going to happen. Bluffing, just bluffing. Hours and hours of interrogations… they took it in turns sometimes, three or four of them trading off for marathon tag-team sessions where they wouldn’t let me sleep, or eat or drink for days on end, wouldn’t even let me go to the bathroom, so I just… did it in the chair. Then I figured out that if I talked, just talked, about anything and everything, they got tired a lot sooner than I did. I gave my lectures. The one that got me kicked out, some of the ones I used to give the new recruits at the SGC, some of my longer and less enthralling mission briefings… Remember the one where I put you, Sam, Teal’c *and* the General all to sleep? Sure-fire, that one. That one usually ended it pretty quick. Of course, taking away any comfort, any privileges, that was easy for them. No books, pens or paper, taking my glasses away then giving them back so they could take them away again… confiscating my journal every couple of weeks or so, when they let me have one at all. They never read them though. There was one week where they fed me nothing but beans and stale bread. For two weeks solid. Now that was torture. I would have killed for an MRE by the end… even macaroni and cheese. That must give you an idea. I stopped eating the third day, and they gave up on the whole idea by the fifteenth day. Then they got serious. Pulled out the drugs, and the rubber hoses. Didn’t work, though. I mean, if they did anything permanent, how the hell was I going to ever tell them what they wanted? Like that Bogey line in Maltese Falcon. Without the threat of death behind it… So then they got creative. They left me alone.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound so…”

“No, Jack. They. Left. Me. Alone. I was in that little brick box, on the end of an empty brick corridor in the basement, no windows in sight, without even a Multiple Miggs for company, the guards down at the end… Then they pulled the guards away, and turned out the lights. And they left me. No light, no sound, no food, getting colder, like being buried alive. Or maybe not even alive… Sometimes for a day, sometimes… longer. And the pain was the only thing to remind me I was even there. The longest was eleven days. But, I admit, I *had* pissed the guy off… I think that was the time I puked on the shiny black pointed-toe NID shoes. So maybe I had it coming. I… I kind of lost it near the end. I thought… I thought Oma was with me, talking to me. I wouldn’t talk back, just in case she wasn’t real. They had cameras on me all the time, and… I didn’t want to give them an excuse to send me back to mental health. I could take jail fine… mental health, with Mackenzie… I don’t think I could take that again.”

“Jesus, Danny…”

“No, it’s okay, Jack, because I found out about the pain then. How it could keep me focused, remind me I was…real. Remind me what was real. Because they got tired of screwing around. I guess they decided they didn’t have the stomach for torture themselves, or they lacked the essential credibility with me, so they handed me over to experts. They put me in the exercise yard, and then let Makepeace and his guys out to play. I’m pretty sure they figured I’d just get a good beating out of it. Maybe a few broken bones, that sort of thing. They didn’t know one of the guys had made himself a home-made shiv. That’s what they call them, those little knives. Shivs. That’s what he told me as he showed it to me, the others holding me down, just before he shoved it into me.”

Jack made a sound, burying his head in his arms.

“When they finally pulled me out of there, the NID guy asked if I wanted to go to the hospital, if I wanted to see a doctor. All I had to do was tell him what he wanted to know. I just laughed. Or giggled… I’m not sure, I was kind of out of it by then. They had Cathy stitch me up. She pumped me as full of antibiotics as she dared, then they left me alone in my cell for a few more days, until Oma came back… but by then I had the pain, so that was okay. That was good. The pain is my friend.”

His mouth dry, Jack ventured, “Cathy?”

“She takes care of the infirmary. A kind of a nurse, I think. They don’t have a doctor on duty. Just Cathy. I guess they send people out, when they’re sending. Anyway, she likes me. And she has some kind of juice with the people in charge, so they don’t dare get rid of her… hell. Maybe she’s a prisoner, a trustee or something. That never occurred to me before. Maybe they *couldn’t* send her to Iraq or Antarctica or wherever, like they keep doing to my guards when they get too chummy with me. Anyway, she snuck into my cell a few times, even when I was on curfew – that’s what she called it when they went away and forgot about me down there in the basement, ‘being on curfew’ – and I guess she had a way to turn the cameras off so no one would see. Or maybe she just didn’t give a damn. And none of that, Jack, all she ever did was change my bandages, shoot me up with antibiotics and pain killers. She got me patched up enough that I got through it. And the NID backed off for a bit. I guess they were scared they almost got me killed, for real. For good. For the last and final time. And then they just took me in for long, boring sessions of interrogation for a while. They got fed up of it before I did. I must have that effect on people… you know the one, Jack. That, glazed ‘won’t this briefing *ever* end and if I have to see one more power-point slide I’m gonna shoot the hell out of something’. No wonder they call me Moby Daniel. So they tried the ‘throw him in with Makepeace’ thing again. Threatened a couple of times first, then actually did it. In the showers. Ten of them. And me. All of us naked and wet, I guess so they could be sure there wouldn’t be any more shivs. Lots of tile and concrete and water and soap, though. Too bad the water was all cold. Kinda put a crimp in their motivation… Jeez, it was like a bad prison porn movie. Or so I imagine… maybe I should watch a few to be sure. Unless you know, Jack?”

Jack felt sick to his stomach, or he would have bantered about that, grateful for Daniel tossing him such a sure-fire straight line… but he honestly didn’t have the heart for it. 

“They hurt you.”

“They tried. I fought. I crippled a couple of them worse than they did me when I went down too hard on the floor, with a couple of them tackling me so I got a good momentum going. And then the NID got worried again, and came and broke it up, hauled me away. Cathy got me the brace and the crutches. Found them in a closet somewhere. The NID wouldn’t let me go to the hospital, or let anyone come and take a look. There’s no X-ray machine at the facility… she was pretty sure it was broken.”

“Daniel… Daniel…” God, how do you even ask? “Did they… rape you?”

“Tried. But I fought. They didn’t, Jack. Held ‘em off just long enough to wreck my knee. And then the NID lost their nerve and got me out of there. Still naked, still dripping, and screaming bloody murder. And though they threatened it plenty more times, they never tried to do that again. Things kinda calmed down after that… a couple more interrogations, but everyone was so bored by that time that they weren’t so much fun… just going through the motions by then, all of us. I think I was wearing them down, Jack. Give me a few more months, and they’ll either charge me with something finally, or let me go. If they charge me with treason, however it turns out, at least it’ll be over. I’m pretty tired right now, and ‘over’ sounds good to me. But I don’t think they dare do that. Not and risk anything coming out, or even, me winning. And if I finally get loose… either after a trial, or they just kick me out… Not back to the SGC, they’ll never let me do that again, I know… not that you’d ever want me back, because, how could you ever trust me again?… but… I’m going back to Egypt, I think. Back home. More or less… as close to home as I can get. Not to do archeology. Won’t ever be able to do that again. But I can teach English. Lots of little villages in the shadow of the pyramids, lots of adults and kids want to learn English. It’s the best way of cashing in on tourism, getting a cut of all those rich American dollars, set up as guides, hiring to the hotels or taxi services or the tour groups, whatever. Teaching English is good for room and board anywhere...”

Jack could actually hear the sound of his heart breaking, as he listened to a dazed and exhausted Daniel slide gently into sleep, his breathing deepening, evening out. 

“Funny, though…” Daniel sighed, his voice just above a whisper as he stretched out on the sofa.

“What is, Daniel?”

“All this time, and they never tried the one argument that might have worked, might have made me give in.”

“And what would that be?”

“Proving to me that they could be trusted not to abuse their power.” 

And then he was asleep. Jack shook out the afghan that had covered the back of the couch and spread it over his friend.

This brilliant man… brilliant, passionate, gentle, wise, enthusiastic, maddeningly stubborn, and even after all he had been through, so convinced of the inherent justice of the universe… to be wasting the rest of his life teaching English in some forgotten corner of a world that didn’t even appreciate what it had lost, what it had willfully tossed away… 

“Ain’t gonna happen, Daniel,” Jack promised quietly. “I’ll work something out. Whatever it takes. We’ll get you back somehow.”

Å 

Jack returned to Daniel’s office early the next morning with a tray of food that would have choked an elephant, let alone a scrawny archeologist. He had come early enough to make Daniel eat, and help him get cleaned up and dressed before the briefing. 

He passed the two men on duty… new guys, both the SF and the NID bastard… and called loudly, “Wakey wakey, Daniel. Time to get up…”

And was foiled by a fully awake Daniel, once again ensconced in the wheel chair and peering into the depths of a computer screen, with both Captain Linus, SG2’s linguist, and Nyan hovering close.

“I was hoping you’d sleep through,” Jack commented in disappointment.

“Can’t, Jack. Every time I try to move the leg… wakes me up. And I had a lot to get through.”

“Had?”

“I think I’m almost done. They are speaking Akkadian… or a near variation.”

Young Linus nodded earnestly. “I suppose I was thrown by the vowel shift and no clear Goa’uld influence… I should have been able to work it out, though… I do know some of the language…” she did not quite meet Daniel’s eyes. 

Or the whole thing was a set-up to get the NID to spring Daniel, they all left unsaid, although it was clearly in Daniel’s assessing glance at Jack. If Jack and General Hammond were working some manner of shell game with him as the pea, far be it from Daniel to spoil their game.

“The language written on the walls is something entirely different, however,” Daniel went on. “I’m sure you recognized it, Jack.”

“It’s one of the four great races. We saw the same kind of script at Heliopolis when we rescued Ernest Littlefield.”

“That’s right. And by process of elimination, it must be Furling.”

“Phew! No kidding. So at last we meet them?”

“From the look of the ruins, I’d say the planet must have been abandoned centuries, even millennia ago. The local people are probably re-seeded humans, not the original inhabitants, although they may believe they are descendants of the great race that built the city. But the thing is—“

“Ahht!” Jack interrupted. “Don’t waste it on me, Daniel. Save it for the General’s briefing.” With a glance at the other two and a hike of his chin toward the door, Linus and Nyan made themselves scarce. “For now, eat your breakfast, then I’ll help you get ready. I’ve cleared a private shower for you, and got fresh duds.”

Daniel stared at the tray in dismay. “You’re eating this with me, right?”

“Nope. All for you, Danny-boy. As my old drill instructor used to say, eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a peasant and dinner like a pauper.” 

Å 

Daniel went over his findings again an hour later in the Stargate Command briefing room. Also in attendance were Rohrbeck, two of his goons, General Hammond, Major Davis, Jack, Dr. Warner, Nyan (alien though he was and therefore still operating well under the Pentagon or NID radars), Captain Linus who had requested to help retrieve her team, as well as Colonel Reynolds with his SG3 Marines who were assigned to Search and Rescue for this mission. 

After Daniel had completed his briefing, and the logistics and strategy for the mission were roughed out, the discussion got around to ordnance to be included.

“ATVs?” Daniel demanded, blinking. His face froze, then he said, quite clearly, “No.”

A number of people spoke up then. “For cryin’ out loud, Daniel…”, “I’ve already made the decision, Doctor…”, “I’m afraid, as your physician, I must insist…”, but Daniel shook his head, getting a mulish pout going.

“General, Sir. We can’t take ATV’s to that planet. It could jeopardize the mission.”

“We’ll have to take that risk, then, Son, because we can’t let you walk two miles in your condition. Dr. Warner assures us it would be detrimental to that knee, could do irreparable damage. I can’t allow that.”

“Sir, please listen… No. You can’t do this. This is an agrarian subsistence-level society, surviving perhaps thousands of years without technology more involved than the wheel and the plough. There’s a very real chance that their hostility towards SG2 wasn’t just about the defilement of their sacred ruins, but over their use of… instruments of the devil. We’ve seen this before, many times. It’s why we’ve never taken machinery like that beyond the Gate area before. Large, noisy ATVs, belching smoke and burning fossil fuels… We can’t do it. They’ll throw us out, maybe put our lives in danger. We can’t do it.”

“But your leg…”

“I’ll survive, sir. I’ll take it slow, Dr. Warner will supply me with pain killers, a proper brace… but no ATV.”

Warner fumed, shaking his head as the General peered in his direction. 

“It’s going to be very painful for you, Son.”

“I realize that, General. But this is the way it has to be. And there could be a benefit.”

“In what way?”

“The people on that planet will be able to see what it’s costing me. That I’m willing to undergo the difficulty, the pain, in order to secure the release of our people.”

Rohrbeck gave a huff. “Bad negotiating ploy, Doctor Jackson. You never let the opposition know how important the mission is to you. It costs you a position of power.”

Daniel fought the urge to bristle, as Jack and Hammond were already doing. “And if we were going up against Wall Street lawyers, stock brokers or the NID, I’d agree. But this is a small clan-based society. Everyone knows everyone else, has from birth. Most will be related, at least as close as cousins. They don’t understand negotiating for profit. They understand negotiating for the greater good of the community. They want to see something they recognize in us, common ground they can use to make an emotional connection. If we show them that community, that the welfare of our people, is as important to us as it is to them, that we’re willing to make personal sacrifices in order to achieve this, *that* is what they will understand, and respect.”

“But Doctor,” Hammond objected mildly, “won’t they also understand that, by allowing you to make this sacrifice, your welfare is of smaller concern to us? And believe me, Son, nothing could be further from the truth.” Let the NID bastards chew on that, thought the General.

“I’ll be going as representative of our community. A position of leadership. They’ll understand that this is my right to make this decision for myself. And they’ll also recognize that I’m placing myself in their hands, that there’s no way I can run if things go bad. In effect, I’ll be making myself a hostage to their honor. I think they’ll respect that, too.”

General Hammond sighed, and recognized that Dr. Jackson had won another point. Even Warner slumped defeated in his chair, mumbling something about it all ending in tears. 

“Very well. We will hold off on sending in any heavy ordnance, apart from the MALP. However, Dr. Jackson, the team will take along a litter, in case your condition should prove dangerous to your own health. Is that understood?”

Everyone at the table nodded agreement, and even Daniel shrugged grudgingly, but the stubborn light in his eye clearly stated for anyone interested that no way was he going to let anyone carry him anywhere.

And with that, Hammond gave the go-ahead for the mission.

Nyan wheeled Daniel away in his wheelchair, with the inevitable escort of NID and SFs. 

“The staff completed the transcription of your notebook, Daniel,” Nyan ventured as they rolled back to Daniel’s office. “I took the liberty of putting it on the network server, so you can access it from your PC.”

“Thanks, Nyan. I have the last section I typed out last night to add to it. I want to complete it before I leave.”

“Daniel… you didn’t say anything about security… password protections… I’ve read it, so have a few others… I… It seems like maybe we should keep it… you know… private.”

Daniel smiled. “No, Nyan. I want as many people as possible to read it. Well, those with clearance anyway… I always intended it should be read by everyone at the SGC, and the NID, the Pentagon Joint Chiefs, and the President… and those it concerns most closely. Sam and Teal’c, if I ever see them… and Jack. In fact, when I finish, I’d like you to e-mail it to the entire staff for me. I’ll leave a list of other people I want it to go to before we go.”

Nyan nodded. “It’s your defense, isn’t it, Daniel?”

“I’ve been thinking of it more as an apology. Or a eulogy.”

“Daniel…” Nyan hissed in alarm, glancing warily at the guards too close behind them.

“Don’t worry, Nyan. It’ll be okay, one way or another. It will, I promise. Thank you for everything, my friend.”

Which, to the Bedrosian scholar’s ears, sounded terrifyingly like a last farewell.

Å


	4. Minas Troney in the Soup

Å 

Daniel’s dismount through the wormhole event horizon was decidedly on the ungainly side. In fact, he almost stumbled to his already aching knees, and would have if not for Jack’s steady hand under his elbow, catching him before he fell. As it was, it took the archeologist precious minutes to control his harsh breathing and wrestle back the pain. Jack made a curt gesture that had one of Reynold’s Marines bolting forward with a water bottle and a pill. Daniel waved off the pill – Warner had already dosed him to the gills just before he was released to the Gateroom, as much as he could stand and still be able to stand upright – but did take a swig from the canteen.

Then, when Daniel could finally unclench his hands on the crutches and actually open tight-shut eye-lids, he nodded to the solicitous SGC personnel surrounding him and started off. 

They made excruciatingly slow progress, with frequent stops… slower and more frequent as they went on. Jack ground his teeth in frustration. 

“Let me go back for an ATV, Danny. We’ll take our chances on pissing off the locals.”

“No, Jack.”

“Then what about one of those litter things? Give us ten minutes to send someone back to the Gate, there are two of the things strapped to the MALP, and we’ll have Rohrbeck’s goons carry you the rest of the way. You’ll look like a king coming in state, impress the hell out of these guys. ‘Kay?”

“No, Jack. It’s not that much further. I can make it.”

“Maybe you can, but you’re giving me a migraine just watching you.”

“Suck it up, Colonel.”

Daniel said that last rather breathlessly, and with as much bravado as he could summon. But Jack saw how pale the man was, sweat standing on his brow, his hands shaking on the crutches. The archeologist would only let himself rest a few minutes, not daring to sit down on the camp stools brought by one of SG3’s Marines, obviously afraid he might not be able to get up again. He would stand still, taking the weight off his bad leg by resting on the crutches, carefully balancing himself, and he would close his eyes, using some of the meditation techniques Teal’c had taught him, until he could put the pain away for another few hundred yards.

As they entered the woodland path that snaked and curled toward the towering ancient walls of the ruin, one of Rohrbeck’s NID bastards sidled up to Jack’s left, his unoccupied side, since he had Daniel firmly placed to his right. Wide shoulders and painfully short red hair, he looked vaguely familiar to Jack… Oh yeah, the guy from the plane who had his nose in the magazine the whole way. The goon glanced around, muttering “We’re being watched, sir.”

Okay, so maybe this one wasn’t such a bastard as the others. He was a Captain by the insignia on his fatigues, but God alone knew if that meant anything. No name patch. Jack was pretty sure none of Rohrbeck’s goons had ever been introduced or referred to by name. This one was almost identical to the others in spite of cosmetic differences, all of them built like line-backers, with ferocious crew-cuts and faces a uniform frozen unemotional mask. This one was a red-head, and seemed a lot younger than the others. Not yet a lost cause, maybe. For some reason, Jack was reminded of his first meeting with the First Prime of Apophis…

“Yeah, I know. They had us marked the second we came through the Gate. Must have a guard on it. They had to be expecting us. Keep it frosty, Captain. Tell your guys too. Weapons on safety unless and until I give the word. You understand? One shot out of place, and we’re all dead here. Got it?”

“Yes sir. Just wanted you to be aware, sir.”

“Thanks. Captain. What’s your name, son?”

“Abrams, sir.”

“Good work, Abrams. Keep your eyes open and your mind too, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

At the half way mark, one mile down one mile to go, Jack had had enough and called a ten minute rest. He made Daniel sit on a convenient stump, and called up that Marine again, for water and pill. This time he made Daniel take it, not liking the grey cast to the archeologist’s skin. 

“I swear, Jack, I’ll never tease you about your little ACL problem ever again,” Daniel sighed as he eased his weight off the crutches and put his hands on his right thigh above the brace, rubbing convulsively. And even that little confession was enough to jolt Jack into full-blown Mother-Hen mode. 

“For cryin’ out loud, Daniel… let me send for the damned litter.”

“We’re almost there. We might as well press on. I’m fine, Jack. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

One good thing, Jack reflected, if they were putting on a show for the locals, it was a good one. And the impression had to be just what Daniel, and probably Hammond intended… Four Marines, a returning linguist, two AF Colonels… seven SGC escorts, so Rohrbeck insisted he get seven escorts too, for equality of numbers, while maintaining the absolute minimum of personnel, as Hammond required… all hovering around one thin, frail, hobbling man… Forget that half of the team considered Daniel a friend and colleague while the other half thought of him as a prisoner, the obvious solicitude of them all highlighted Daniel’s importance to them. 

Jack caught out the NID kid by surprise, staring down at the prisoner with a look of respect, tinged with awe. And maybe a hint of regret, as he turned away? Rohrbeck didn’t seem to have noticed yet that the ol’ Jackson magic was cutting inroads in his own personnel. If it works on System Lords, bounty hunters, Unas, glowy ascended beings and sea monsters, the NID bastards would be putty in another few days. 

If the rest stop actually lasted fifteen instead of ten minutes, no one begrudged Daniel the extra rest, not even Rohrbeck and his bastards. None of them liked the green tinge to their charge. But when Jack finally and reluctantly called everyone to order, Daniel merely sighed, took a deep breath, and struggled to his feet. Reynolds, the Marine and Abrams all leaped forward before Jack could, to offer support and help. Daniel turned a beautiful smile on all three and a quiet and heart-felt “Thank you”, before he took yet another deep breath and lurched onto the path once more. 

On the last hill, in sight of the village, the indigenous guards didn’t bother hiding any longer, but came out of the trees to gather on either side of the path, along with a few herders, hunters, farmers, all silent and watching. 

Abrams snuck up beside Jack again. “They’re all watching him, sir.”

“Yeah, so put on a good show, Captain.” 

“No, sir, I mean… they’re all watching him. Dr. Jackson. Not us. Just him.”

Reynolds, close enough to overhear, exchanged rueful smiles with Jack.

“Yeah, well, Danny’s always been prettier than us. And he called this one, at the briefing. He’s the focus, the one with the power right now. Let’s make sure he keeps it, okay?”

As they entered the outskirts of the town, it seemed the entire population, a few thousand men women and children, had lined up along the path, all eerily silent, and all watching the lurching figure in the middle of the strange procession. 

Jack didn’t know what was keeping Daniel going. Sheer stubborn guts and nerve, probably. His pace slowed even more on the uneven cobbles of the town road, the feet of his crutches occasionally slipping a little on the stones and giving him an added precarious wobble to his gait. But at last they arrived at the village square, in the center of the community. 

Daniel moved out to the very center of the large open square, letting Jack, the Marines and NID bastards cluster all around, and the people around them. He was almost in position when one of his crutches slipped out from under him and he almost crashed again. 

Jack was there to catch him, but the mis-step had twisted the leg, and Daniel cried out at the pain. For a moment his vision grayed out, and all his weight ended in Jack’s arms, hands grasping desperately to strong supporting shoulders and arms. He didn’t hear the gasp of his team, or the towns-people, didn’t see how everyone in the Square had taken one step forward. Jack did, and he had to sternly suppress a grin. Oh yeah, the locals were toast, and no one had said a word yet.

“Danny? Daniel, you okay? You with me, buddy?”

“Yeah… yeah, just give me a… few.” Slowly, Daniel collected himself and straightened. 

“You okay?” Jack asked gruffly. 

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Need another pill?”

“No. Not another pill. I can barely keep awake as it is.” 

Still, the linguist seemed to need his arm as support for another minute before he was able to stand with the cautiously placed crutches. 

Then, blue eyes staring deep into Jack’s concerned brown, he said, “It’s all part of the act, you know. A stumble at the end, elicit sympathy, maybe prod the elders into getting this show…” a little wince betrayed the lie, “… on the road.” 

“I get it. So… you *meant* to do that? Learned it from Carter’s cat, I suppose.” 

Daniel grinned but said nothing, merely searching the crowd. Jack knew he was looking for the elders from the tapes, and would remain silent and standing until they arrived. Jack motioned the Marine with the stool, but Daniel shook his head. “Damn it, Daniel, you need to sit down. You’re all out here.”

“Standard protocol, Jack. As a mark of respect, I have to be standing when the elders arrive. If they say I can sit, and they sit first, then okay. But not before. Now would you mind backing off a few feet?”

“Yeah? Convince me you won’t fall down if I do.”

Fair enough, the tilt to Daniel’s head admitted. With another drawn breath and shut eyes, then gathered himself to stand straight, tall, his chin up, his eyes filled with that trade-mark stubborn Jackson determination. “That good enough for you?”

Oh yeah, Jack acknowledged as he did back away… about a foot, no more, and kept himself alert for any sign he needed to close that dangerous gap. But he motioned the rest of the team to move back too, surrounding Daniel in a semi-circle to his back.

If the elders were playing the “let ‘em wait” game, they weren’t prepared to play it for long. There were five of them, three men and two women, all with long, flowing grey-to-silver hair, the men with long beards. The center man was the one with the most elaborately embroidered robe. It was he who approached Daniel the closest. 

There was silence you could cut with a knife. 

Daniel bowed his head, and spoke, in what he knew was the native language. “I bring you greetings, people of the Old Place. I am Daniel Jackson, representative of the Tau’ri.” He usually tried to mention something about Peaceful Explorers at this point, but with all the armaments bristling around him, and half of his team being NID bastards, Daniel just couldn’t stomach the lie. “I have been sent by my people to recover our comrades, the first team we sent to visit this world. We are aware they may have made mistakes, through ignorance not design, and offended you. We regret this deeply, and beg the opportunity to make to you whatever reparation will secure their release. May we talk of this further?”

The elder studied him closely. “You are very young.”

“Yes, yes I am.”

“You speak our tongue. Your first… team… did not.”

“No one on my world has spoken your tongue in over a hundred generations. I am a scholar of the past. It is my duty to know these things. As much as we are able to know, for much has been lost to us in the long years.”

The elder seemed satisfied with his replies. “You are injured,” he now observed. 

“Yes.”

The elder studied him a moment more, then glanced back at the other elders. One, the oldest, a woman, smiled kindly at the young linguist, nodding to the elder. Evidently, the man in charge agreed, because he turned back to Daniel with a slight smile.

“Come, Daniel Jackson of the Tau’ri. I am Holder, these are the elders of the Circle, Lamb, Rose, Stone and Hill. Come with us into the Meeting Hall, and we will rest and talk. We will provide a seat for your easement, and refreshments after your hard journey. Of your guard of honor, you may bring two escorts. The rest will await you by the door, if they can do so quietly, peacefully, and with respect. Otherwise, we will send them back to your home, as we did that one, the one who carried our message. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Daniel said with considerable relief, as he translated the arrangements to Jack. 

Rohrbeck growled out an oath of disgust. “Judas Priest. They folded? Just like that? And now everything is sweetness and light? And all he had to do was show up and *talk*? Does he do this *every* damn time?”

Jack could only smile and shake his head. “If you want to come, Rohrbeck, get a move on. Otherwise, I’m sure I can find another volunteer for honor escort.”

No way could Rohrbeck decline that position. But Jack caught the edges of a smug grin on Abrams. That boy better watch himself, or he was on a one-way trip somewhere very very cold.

The Meeting Hall was a large, airy space, with thatched walls and roof tied to a log frame, large open doors on west and east, stone fireplaces to north and south, with woven straw mats over the earthen floor. When the elders slipped off their sandals to go bare-foot before entering, Daniel leaned over to attempt the same… Jack was right there, along with one of Reynolds’ Marines, to help support him while Jack pulled off the heavy combat boots. Rohrbeck and he did likewise, with heavy sighs. 

Rose, the younger of the two female elders, had been eyeing Daniel with disfavor. She whispered something to Holder. He nodded. “Daniel Jackson, before we continue, we ask that you divest yourself of this… raiment, and clothe yourself as one of our own. It is difficult for us to relate to you when you appear so… strange to us.”

Daniel thought about this and nodded. “Will it be necessary for my escort to do this as well? It’s just that they aren’t accustomed, and being warriors… it’s bad enough they had to take off their boots. They wouldn’t feel comfortable in anything but their current clothing.” 

Holder conferred, and the other elders shrugged. “They have no part in this. They may remain as they are.” 

When Daniel began unbuttoning, Jack grew a little restive. “Daniel?”

“Just going native, Jack. Don’t worry. You can keep your BDU’s. But they want me to change into something a little more comfortable. That’s okay, right?”

Jack frowned heavily at the elders. “I guess… This better not be the lead-up to something kinky, though. Your knee won’t take it.”

Jack helped Daniel strip down to his skivvies, taking extra care when removing then re-fastening the knee brace, and took charge of Daniel’s uniform, along with his tac vest. Meanwhile, a young girl brought a simple tunic of plain, un-dyed linen, and stood by with more robes draped over her arms. 

The elders frowned and grumbled among themselves as they studied Daniel’s emaciated form, revealed as he stripped out of his fatigues. Jack was none too pleased himself. Although he knew Daniel had lost a lot of weight, he was unprepared for just how much, the hollows under the ribs, the way each and every bone seemed to stand out stark against his pale sickly-looking skin. His glance at Rohrbeck held daggers in it. But the NID man seemed a bit unprepared himself, more than a little shocked by the damage that had been done. 

The elders had chosen to put Daniel in clothing suited to another elder, like themselves, in spite of his age. The robe fell around his thin frame in graceful folds, to his ankles, the under-tunic a simple square neck knee-length without sleeves. Once he was attired and could straighten up, the three Tau’ri were allowed into the Hall. 

Inside, young girls and boys, all around ten to twelve years dressed in brief tunic kilts of linen-like homespun cloth and bare feet, hustled about, assisting Daniel and the elders to seats on long cushioned benches, Daniel facing the elders. The children brought clay beakers to fill cups, and trays of finger-nibbles. They seemed fascinated with Daniel, and had to be sharply reminded several times to pay attention to the other guests. Jack grinned, appreciating the snacks, noting that older youths were also seeing to the rest of the team, standing guard out in the plaza. 

Meanwhile, Holder had leaned in conference with one of their burly guards, and he had gone away, soon to return with more of his men, ushering in the missing members of SG2.

Daniel held up a hand and frowned a warning for his ‘people’ to be still. SG2 obviously were aware enough of the protocol to remain silent in the presence of the elders, but their eyes lit up, one and all, as they noted Jack and Daniel had come for them. They never doubted Jack, but Daniel must have come as a happy shock. It was apparent to all just from the suddenly up-beat posture of the captives, that they felt this turn of events meant they were as good as home. 

Jack and Rohrbeck knew better than to show too much surprise, but Jack surreptitiously took in the state of the SGC men. They all seemed fit, well. They were all down to their underwear, their uniforms and packs God-knew where, which could have been embarrassing, except that loin cloths were common habits for the tall and bronzed local men, and the women wore little more than sarongs, with a bit of ribbon, lace and embroidery to liven up the rough linen. Given the tropical climate of this place, skivvies were probably a hell of a lot more comfortable than BDU’s… Jack’s own were beginning to chafe. Of the SG2 team, only Ferretti showed any bruises, and his were ripening up nicely, so he hadn’t acquired any new ones since the last MALP transmission. Although not restrained or tied, they were clearly being hemmed in by sufficient of the cross-bow and spear-armed locals as to discourage getting cute. Once seated to one side, the prisoners were also being served nibbles and drinks. 

“Now, see, Rohrbeck? This is how civilized advanced cultures like this one treat their prisoners. Take notes.” 

Leave it to Ferretti to voice what all were thinking. “Jesus wept, Daniel, what the hell have you done to yourself? You look like a scarecrow!”

Daniel winced at the comment. “The restaurant I’ve been eating at doesn’t carry the jello I like,” he replied. “Don’t worry, Lou. Just keep still for a while, okay? We’ll get you guys out of here soon, I promise.”

The elders may not have understood the words, but the gentle earnest promise was clear enough to the people of the Old Place. Holder observed the hostages closely. “Your people would seem to have great trust in you, Daniel Jackson, young though you are. As you see, we have not harmed them. Not much. Their leader was loud and violent in the beginning, and we were forced to be firm.” 

Daniel nodded, smiling a little at Ferretti. “Yes, it would be his duty to try, at least, to resist if he felt his team were in danger. I appreciate your care of them, Elder Holder. May I ask the circumstances that resulted in your restraining them?”

“They attempted to enter the ruined city. We cannot allow that.”

“Why not?”

“Ah,” said the oldest, Lamb. “That is the question they did not, could not ask, and that is why we have kept them, awaiting your arrival, Daniel Jackson.”

“Awaiting my arrival?”

Lamb shrugged. “Or one of your people who could speak with us.” 

Hill, one of the other men, said, “We did not take kindly to your machines. We did not want more of you sneaking in at dark or whatever sneaking ways you might have, to get into the city without our knowing. We wanted to make sure you came to us first.”

Daniel frowned. “For what reason?”

“Your team are not the first to come here to our world through the Star Door, uninvited. They all come seeking treasure and secrets in the ruins,” Stone lamented sadly. “Few, if any, ever walk out again. Which is why we prevented your team from going within, and acted so that we could explain this to you.”

Holder said, “There is no treasure within. There are no secrets. Only crumbling walls and wild beasts, and too many shadows and twisting ways. Roofs that crumble, floors that disintegrate from rot, walls that fall on the unwary. Even a light footfall is sometimes enough. We have lost many a wild, unheedful child and youth to the ruins. Worse, we have found some traps set by the last of the ruin inhabitants, to slay unwitting trespassers. Plates in the ground that release gas and arrows, or collapse doors that only seemed to be held open and inviting. We, the people of the Old Place, have long guarded the walls against these dangers. Your team is free to go, Daniel, and your escort as well, but do not return if all you seek is entrance to the Ruin of the dead false god, for we will do all we may to prevent this. For your own safety.”

“Wait… the dead false god?”

“The ruins were ancient and long empty even when he came to this place by ship, many generations ago, and set himself as lord over them, bringing us to be his slaves, tending the members of his court, serving his clergy, and farming the rich fields. He was one of a kind known as Goa’uld. He claimed to be a god, but we knew better, we slaves, though he abused us for our skepticism. But we served him too closely to be unaware of his failings. No god is as ignorant, willful or as stupid as he. And when rivals of his came, also by ship, they soon killed him. Then they too left, having found nothing of value, only danger and death in this place. So we were left here in peace and freedom. Now, not even the stones written with his name remember him. But he left his terrible legacy in spite. He built the traps and weakened the structures that were weak enough and dangerous even then. To deny to others even what little he had found there.”

“You don’t remember his name?”

Holder shook his head. “Why should we? He was evil and stupid and was not here long, and then, although not soon enough, he was dead. We are grateful he is gone. So now we tell you, whatever your people seek in the ruins, is not there to find. Only ill has ever come of the seeking.” 

Daniel nodded slowly. “I thank you for your warning. My team is free to go home, then?”

“As are you all. The possessions of your team that we confiscated have already been delivered to the Star Door.”

Daniel smiled. Then thought. Go home. For him, that meant back to the brick-lined hole they had found for him… But he had sworn. More than that, he had a duty, a responsibility, owed his comrades what loyalty he had. SG2 would be safe, first. Then he’d see what he could do to liberate himself. This might not be a bad planet to settle down on… But duty first. At least, this time, it could be duty first, for once simple, straightforward, and perfectly allied with conscience.

Daniel turned to Jack and Rohrbeck, and explained the situation. Jack grinned, relieved and elated, giving Ferretti the high-sign. But Rohrbeck fumed. 

“No,” said the NID bastard.

“No?” Daniel queried, his stomach turning over. “What do you mean, no? They’re letting SG2 go. They’re letting us all go, no strings attached.”

“Yes, there’s a string. A big string. What about the Ancients’ City?”

“Furlings, not Ancients. And it’s a ruin. There’s nothing there but booby-traps and crumbling buildings.”

“So *they* say. And we’re just supposed to believe them? Take their word for it?”

Daniel struggled with his suddenly volatile temper. “Whether they’re lying or telling the truth, this is their world, and their decision. They don’t want us in there. You want to argue the issue, Rohrbeck, go right ahead. It shouldn’t take you more than, oh, a year to learn their language. Annoy them enough and they may actually encourage you to go on in there, and let the laws of Darwin take care of you. But you brought me here for one thing, and that was to bring SG2 away and safe. I can do that right now. My obligation to you, to the SGC, to everyone, is now done. I’m not going to negotiate your way past those walls, and I’m not fool enough to go against the wishes of the Circle of the Old Place.”

Rohrbeck’s eyes kindled, and although Jack tried to get between he and Daniel, the archeologist would not back down. 

“You in a hurry to get back to that cell, Jackson? Maybe you’ve grown to like it there? No danger, no Goa’uld, no work, just a little interrogation once in a while. Glad of the company, I bet. Well, think again. We’ll send SG2 home, along with the rest of your SGC wimp fans, but my men and I are staying right here until we get what we want, and so are you.”

Daniel sighed, fighting as hard as he ever had, to restrain the unmitigated glee in his eyes. To strangle off the loud ‘Gotcha!’ bashing at his throat for a chance to erupt. Just let Jack and Reynolds and Ferretti and their teams go home… just send them home… You, I can deal with, even with a shiv in my gut and a knee shattered to hell. 

“Oh, not a hope in hell,” Jack growled. “We’re all going home. Or, at least, if you and your boys want to stick around that’s fine by me, but I’m taking Daniel and all SGC personnel, and I’m getting out of here, just like the nice folks want.”

The argument raged, and Daniel backed out of it, glancing warily toward the elders of the Circle. None of this argument was lost on them. But they patiently waited. 

Compromise came late in the afternoon, in the promise of Jack and Rohrbeck to stay the night in the village with Daniel to continue arguing, while Ferretti, SG2 and SG3, along with Rohbeck’s team, returned to the Gate to report back, letting Hammond know the situation, and make the necessary decisions on disposition of everyone. It should have been an easy decision. Pack up and go. When his radio clicked alive with the opening of the distant Stargate, Jack learned that SG2 and SG3 had been ordered to camp by the Stargate along with the NID personnel. Since Rohrbeck refused to leave the village, or to let Daniel return, Jack was also stuck for the night. He promised to report in the morning to update the General, but on no account would he leave Daniel here alone with the NID man, or make his friend do that torturous two mile hike to the Gate and back. When the General brought up the subject of back-up, for three Tau’ri surrounded by natives who had already proved themselves hostile, Jack put his Commander’s concerns to rest. The natives he could trust, but not the NID. And wasn’t that a hell of a thing to admit? As for the rest of the personnel, since Rohrbeck had refused to leave, and insisted on keeping his NID bastards on the planet with him, the General was reluctant to recall SG3. SG2, not requiring any medical attention, were surprisingly anxious to stay as well.

So Daniel was left to explain things as best he could to the Elders of the Circle. Ruefully, he smiled and shrugged. 

“First of all, thank you for letting my people return home. I am most grateful to you. But it seems we have a… slight disagreement over what to do next. Colonel Jack O’Neill, this man here, is happy to accept your assessment of the relative risk and rewards of entering the ruin. This man, Captain James Rohrbeck… is not. He wants admittance. He does not believe there is nothing to find.”

Holder sighed. “He is a fool.”

“No doubt. But he also has some power among my people. And he’s stubborn.”

“And you are still the only one who can talk to us, so he forces you to remain. Do you believe us, Daniel? That there is nothing in the ruin of value?”

Daniel thought about it. “Actually… no, I don’t.”

The Elders reared back in surprise. “You think we lie?” Hill demanded.

“No! Honored Elders, I meant no disrespect. But what you might consider of value, and Rohrbeck, for that matter… is not what I would seek there. I told you I am a scholar of the past. I have spent my life sifting through dust and sand for the debris left by lost lives, seeking clues to the past, piecing together tiny bits of broken evidence, like the shards of a broken vessel, to put them back together again. For the sheer joy of seeing a bit of lost truth stand again. Even the dust speaks to me across the years. Treasure doesn’t mean much to me, but the secrets lost in time, they do. I can read the writing upon the walls of your lost city. I can discover the name of the dead false god who once lived here, read what he wrote in his arrogance and foolishness, read his self-praise and his warnings and threats to those he feared. But more important… the race who built the city were once great and powerful. We know little of them but their name… the Furlings. Even a fragment of their past written upon the walls could open a whole new world of understanding for me and those like me. So yes… there is much of value for me left here, even if anyone else would only see crumbling walls and stone floors worn to smooth grooves with the passing of thousands of feet.” 

Lamb smiled fondly on him for this, Rose frowned gloweringly, Hill and Stone reserved judgment, and Holder nodded. But with a jaundiced glance at Daniel’s companions, still arguing between themselves, Holder had clearly had enough. He rose to his feet, clapped for the attention of the young servants, and said, “It has been a long day. Places will be prepared for you to pass the night, but you will not leave the village. Tell your companions, Daniel. We will have you taken apart from the wrangling of these others that you may rest. Food will be brought to you all, and your safety assured, so long as you remain inside the village. Understood?”

Daniel nodded, explained all this to Jack and Rohrbeck, who both nodded. Then the linguist struggled to his crutches and his feet to bow to the Elder. “It is understood, Elder Holder.” 

The Elders departed then, and children came to usher Daniel away. Jack was never too deep in argument to miss his archeologist being taken off without him, and barked out an objection. 

“It’s okay, Jack. They’re taking us somewhere to rest up. You see what you can do with…” Daniel waved vaguely, not willing to find any word in any language to refer to Rohrbeck as he needed and deserved to.

“Daniel, we need to stay together.”

“I’ll ask… see what I can do. But for now, Jack, just… go with the flow, okay? I’ll be fine…” 

Å 

Daniel was taken to a grass hut on the main plaza, just a few yards from the Meeting Hall so he didn’t have to go far. More beautiful doe-eyed children brought him a platter of fruit and cooked meats on skewers, and a beaker of something hot, sweet and fragrant… and no doubt alcoholic. Considering the number of pills Jack had forced on him during the day, it probably wasn’t at all wise to try the local moonshine, but… Hell, he needed it. As he lay back on the soft, cushioned pallet, fresh rushes laid over a rope hammock strung to a wooden frame, he felt himself sinking into a numb and comfortable fog. Loosing himself… feeling no need to cling to the focus of pain any longer…

Å 

It was dark when he awoke, flickering lights from torches set around the plaza painting shadows across his room. Jack, the stubborn bastard, must have found him, and taken up a chair in the corner. But he slumped back, head thrown back, snoring softly. As completely asleep as Daniel had ever seen him, all his sharp Special Ops senses for once buried deep. There was an empty beaker turned over on the floor under his right hand. 

So. Drugged. Probably both of them. And wherever Rohrbeck ended up, he was probably out like a light too.

Daniel had actually been expecting it, which is why he had voluntarily drunk down the wine. The Elders had an agenda, it involved him and only him, and Daniel was curious to see what it was about. He had no doubt that the Furlings’ City was indeed as empty as they claimed… because, Daniel figured, any toys, treasure or secrets now resided with the Elders of the Circle, and not in the ruin at all.

He had only just propped himself on his elbows, when Lamb approached. She had two young girls as attendants, one carrying a small table, and the other a tray of odds and ends. They set up silently next to Daniel’s bed as Holder, Lamb and Rose entered. Children set chairs for them to sit near Daniel, Lamb taking the closest for herself to sit and smile at Daniel in a grand-motherly fashion. Or at least, Daniel assumed that’s how grandmothers looked upon their grandchildren.

“Greetings to you, Daniel,” said Holder. “You feel rested? Comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“And, being a very bright young man,” Rose continued sharply, “you have guessed that we wished private talk with you. You have also probably guessed that while it is true the ruin holds no secrets, we of the Old Place certainly do.”

“Well, yes, it had occurred to me.” 

“Of course it did,” Lamb praised, giving him a fond pat. 

Rose demanded, “You have been treated harshly, and for a long time, Daniel Jackson. Why is this?”

Daniel winced. It was a fair question, and he should have been expecting it. These people had a right to know who they were dealing with, and if he had deserved the harsh treatment he could not hide. But what should he say? 

“I have been a prisoner of conscience. A disagreement between myself and… my elders over a matter that should not concern you. I have committed no crime, I merely… refused to do their will in a certain...” Daniel ground to a halt, uncertain what more he should say… could say. When he looked up at the elders, he saw them politely listening. 

“Your elders ordered your team to enter the Ruins. Did they not?” Rose accused. It seemed the thorny woman was given the task of interrogator.

“Yes. They did.”

“Would you have commanded them so?”

“No, I would not. Not without your permission, since this place is yours, and now without someone like myself, experienced in reading the walls and studying unstable ruins. But since our team could not communicate with you… our leaders, our elders, grew… impatient.”

“Are you not, then, a leader of your people? Of the team of Ferretti?”

Hmm. Sticky point here. “I am not one of the leaders, no. I am a scholar. I was sent to you on this mission because of my special skills, because I could communicate with you when no one else could. In this case, they gave me special powers of leadership, according to our customs. But generally, no, I have little or no power, and no one asked me if I thought it was a good idea to order our team to go ahead and enter the city. No one’s going to want to give me a choice now, either. And they’ll conveniently forget that I don’t always obey orders if I don’t happen to agree they’re right.”

“And they will abuse you still further for this resistance.”

“Probably.” 

Holder sighed, exchanging glances with his fellow elders. “You know we cannot allow anyone to enter the city. It has been long since our more… adventurous and willful youths have ventured inside, always to their great danger, occasionally to their deaths. We have no wish to encourage a new round of such foolishness to occur. And, troublesome as they were, we *liked* your first team. We had no wish to see them harmed. This man you call Rohrbeck… we are much tempted to let him have his way.” Daniel smiled at this, and Holder went on, “But he would not go alone, would he? He needs you, to read the signs for him. And this man, your friend, Jack, he would not let you go without him. True?”

“Yes, Elder. All true.”

Rose’s sharp eyes drilled into him. “This Rohrbeck, and those he serves. They are the ones who have abused you, is it not so?”

“It is so.”

“Yet you serve him?”

“I don’t. I came to bring Ferretti and his team home.”

“But they are free now and yet you stay.”

“I am a prisoner, Elder Rose. Rohrbeck’s prisoner. I have no choice in this.”

“And if he succeeds in his will, and takes you into the City. Will you serve him then? Bring him out alive and well, even if it is empty-handed?”

“I would do my best, yes.”

“After all he has done to you, after he has taken you prisoner? When he refuses to listen to your counsel, your warnings? Still you would risk your own life to save his?”

Daniel closed his eyes. Thinking. About the differences between his human conscience and his dream-Goa’uld one. How tempted he sometimes was, even now… 

“Are all of your people as good as they should be, Elder Rose? And should you then treat their lives as worth less than any others? And are there not those who strongly believe that, for the good of all, they are justified in doing things which otherwise would be considered evil? A warrior who kills for defense… a leader who creates a lie to keep the innocent safe.” Daniel was tactful enough not to draw attention to the uncomfortable shifting of Holder and Rose, or the suppressed chuckle of the appreciative Lamb. “Yes, Rohrbeck and I have our… disagreements. That doesn’t mean I don’t value life, all life. And the Tau’ri people as a whole… I believe they deserve to survive. They may not be perfect, *we* may not be, but we’re trying, and while we may be young, we deserve a chance to grow, and learn better.”

“Ah,” said Lamb. “The young do need to learn their lessons, do they not? If they will not listen to the wisdom of their elders, then it must be through hard experience. However dangerous it may be, the young must learn, or they will not survive. This is the hard truth of all nature. A lesson you know well already, young Daniel. Your Jack, and your SG2 and 3… we think they know this also.”

Rose sniffed disapprovingly as she glanced out the door of the hut. “But these others of your friends, these NID… such disrespect they show us! Such contempt! It is clear to us that they could only benefit from the hardest of all lessons. What they chose to do with it will then be upon their heads.”

Holder stood, as did Rose, having made whatever decision they had come to make. Holder said, “If Rohrbeck takes you into the Ruined City, Daniel, we will not stop him. We will not interfere in any way. And we will not enter to rescue you. Do you understand? It will be up to each of you if you are to survive this test.”

“I understand, Elder. Thank you.” 

Holder and Rose bowed and went away, but a beckoning hand from Lamb, still seated by his side, brought several of the serving children into the room. Daniel glanced as the young girls, apprentices, he believed, carefully set up the table and tray and laid out some strange devices, tools and bowls of powders and syrups. 

Suddenly in mind of the Infirmary, Daniel said hesitantly, “Um…”

Lamb smiled soothingly as she began to prepare the various items on the tray. “Each of the members of the Circle has their appointed areas of expertise and responsibility. Stone knows of minerals and metal-working. Hill is our chiefest Farmer, with decades of experience in the tilling of crops and the changes of the seasons. Rose has a rare feel for the plants and green growing things. My title here is Lamb. It is for me to oversee the welfare of what lives and has warm blood. I see the darkness in your gut and your knee. It screams to me, and I must do what I can to silence it and bring it light and warmth. I will not permit such pain as you carry when I can mend it so easily. Well, easily for me. I fear it will not be easy for you, at least, not to begin with. That knee has been left to knit wrong. It will need to be broken again before we can set it aright.”

Daniel sat up in alarm, trying to draw away from the smiling old woman. “Um, I do not ask—“

“Of course not, my dear. No need. Here. Drink this. Drink deep. We will talk again when you awake.”

If he had a choice, it was now. But Daniel gazed into the warm dark, wise old eyes and took the offered cup. Darkness took him quickly. But he had brief, ugly dreams of sharp, sudden agony, before sinking even deeper under the narcotic effect of the draught.

Å


	5. Semper Ubi Sub Ubi

Å 

Colonel Jack O’Neill woke to a brand new day, and almost immediately wished he hadn’t.

“I *REALLY* hate when this happens,” he grumbled into the collected gun barrels aimed at his head. He sat up slowly, stretched, yawned wide and stretched again, then scratched his ass as he sampled the floor-of-a-birdcage taste in his mouth. Ignoring the NID bastards standing stiff in a ring around him was relatively easy as he got to his feet, stretched again till his joints popped, and looked around for a bathroom, or reasonable alien facsimile. Along the way he noted that the rush bed opposite was empty. Daniel was already up, then, and since there was no sign of his pack or crutches, he had them with him. Jack’s own pack was packed and ready-to-hand – thoughtfully relieved of weapons, he had to assume. And none of his guards were Abrams or Rohrbeck. In fact, these guys were a whole new and unrecognized bunch of NID bastards. 

He glared around at his ‘escort’ and said with awful sarcasm, “Is it okay with you guys if I relieve myself? And think before you answer, because I *WILL* piss up your legs if you say no.”

The NID bastards proved two things then – they had been briefed on the Colonel, and they weren’t as dumb as they looked. He was allowed to pass unhindered out of the hut and around to the back of the village where the facilities were located – albeit with escort dogging his tracks. He took his time at the ‘watering hole’, therefore, giving an extra shake or three before stowing away and zipping, and smirked at the scowling bastards. He had no idea if they had been intimidated by his performance, his attributes or just plain annoyed, but his smirk clearly stated ‘Size Matters’. 

He allowed them to escort him to the village square.

Well, crap again.

There were a hell of a lot of NID Bastards, armed to the teeth, surrounding a whole lot of kneeling people with their hands clasped behind their heads. Kneelers included SG2 & 3, the entire village of alien locals, and one archeologist with a face so white and frozen it ought to be calving off icebergs. Oh yes, kneeling like that, even with his crippled leg stretched straight out in front of him, had to be absolute hell. But what really shocked Jack was the fact that the original team of NID Bastards, including Abrams, were also prisoner under the guns of their erstwhile comrades. No honor among bastards, obviously.

“Well shit,” O’Neill exclaimed, purely for Rohrbeck’s benefit. “I suppose there are more of you with guns on General Hammond as well? ‘Cause no other way would you have got this lot through the ‘Gate with his permission and no warning to us.”

“I have my orders, Colonel, the same as you. I’m dedicated to the protection and security of my country, the same as you. And right now, that means taking a team into those ruins.”

“That’s shit and you know it, Captain,” Abrams sputtered his angry objections. “You’re exceeding your mandate here. They’ll crucify you when you get back.”

Which, Jack supposed, explained why the first team were under guard. Rohrbeck grinned. “You should know how it works by now, Abrams. I’ll only be in trouble if I fail. If I succeed, they’ll be only too glad to welcome me home as a hero.”

Jack felt nauseous with disgust. “You’re nuts. You’re certifiable. You know that, don’t you?”

“Regardless, Colonel, I’m going, and I won’t let you or these savages stop me.”

At this point, a severely annoyed Daniel managed his two cents, in a strained voice. “How do you expect to get more than ten yards past the walls, Captain?”

“Well, Dr. Jackson, I’m glad you asked, because that’s where you come in.”

“Ah,” Daniel nodded, wincing as he clutched his leg and rubbed desperately against a spasm. “I thought it might be something like that.”

“We’ll be needing a guide. It’s you, or one of the savages, and since we can’t communicate with them, well, we would need to take you with us anyway, wouldn’t we? And since it’ll be your neck on the line right alongside ours, once we’re inside, I trust you’ll do everything in your power to keep us all alive, until we complete our mission, collect the technology we need and return to base.”

“You are nuts. I knew it,” Jack growled. “Stealing booty, and taking it back through the ‘Gate? Need I remind you what happened to Makepeace and his boys for trying the same thing?”

“That was different. Maybourne’s operation made the mistake of stealing from advanced races. Nobody’s going to complain too loud about the rights of a bunch of primitive savages like these.”

Daniel’s eyes met Jack’s and a brief smile passed between them, remembering any number of ‘primitive’ races neither man would care to cross.

“So, Dr. Jackson. You ready to go?”

“No,” Daniel muttered in his pissiest, pre-caffeinated mood, even as several of Rohrbeck’s men hoisted him to his feet, secured his brace and supplied him with the crutches he required to stay upright.

No one said a word as Rohrbeck left the Square with Daniel and a six-man team, bristling with ordnance. Which left a good dozen more NID bastards on guard duty. The elders had tried to shout out a last warning, but Daniel didn’t bother trying to translate when the meaning was so very clear. And once the team left the Square, and they could hear the screech, and booming slam of the ancient doors of the ruined city…

“Sir,” Reynolds muttered to the Colonel.

“I know,” O’Neill ground out between clenched teeth.

Time dragged unbearably slowly as babies began to howl, children became restive and whiney, and animals in pens and sheds at the edges of the village began to bleat and bellow for attention. The villagers too began to plead for release. And as the NID bastards were harangued and distracted on all sides…

Jack, Lou, Reynolds and both SG teams recognized the optimum moment when it came, so perfect the locals might almost have planned it for them. Rose stood defiantly to shout insults in one NID guard’s face. Then a toddler broke free of the circle and made straight for what looked like the village smithy. Several adults bolted after him, jostling three uncertain guards, while all the others felt their attention drawn away for critical seconds… When one guard raised a P-90 and aimed dead at the backs of the alarmed parents, Jack exploded into action. So did the rest of the SGC teams. Armed and trained as they undoubtedly were, the NID bastards couldn’t hope to match SGC field experience. In a moment, all twelve of Rohrbeck’s agents had been disarmed and lay face down on the cobbles of the village plaza, wrists tied behind their backs, a knee in the base of their spines to pin them in place. 

Jack stood scowling over Abrams and his team then. “So what do I do with you, son? It does just occur to me that you might be a ringer, pretending to play devil’s advocate to Rohrbeck for just this sort of situation.”

Abrams winced. “Think what you want, Colonel. Not all NID are… bastards.”

“Hmmm. Maybe not. Law of averages, after all… let him up, Lou. But not these other guys. And Abrams, we will be watching you. Get out of line, even think about getting out of line, and we’ll fall on you like a ten ton Jaffa. Capiche?”

“I get you, Colonel.”

But when the SGC personnel plus Abrams tried to make for the gates of the ruined city, the locals rushed to bar their way. The Elders chattered urgently to them. 

Captain Linus quickly translated, “They won’t let us in, sir. They say it’s too dangerous.” Linus tilted her head, listening to Rose’s angry warnings, then Holder’s calmer, more resigned observations. 

“Oh, so you get the language now, do you, Captain?” Abrams challenged suspiciously. 

Linus ducked her head, glancing warily at both her CO Ferretti, and Jack. “It was the vowel shift and the later Goa’uld influence that… uh… Daniel coached me?”

Abrams groaned and said, “Never mind. Forget I asked.”

“Elder Holder says we have to wait for them to return on their own, sirs.”

“Sure,” Jack reasoned, “and when will that be? Look, nothing is going to convince Rohrbeck there’s nothing to find in there. He’ll keep looking until all his men are dead. Until Daniel’s dead.” 

Linus told the Elders this, and Lamb only smiled, patting O’Neill’s chest reassuringly. She said something that Linus translated as, “Have faith in your young friend. He has resource as well as wisdom and cleverness.”

“Maybe, but he’s also crippled! He won’t be able to walk out of there on his own.”

Lamb only smiled the wider, sharing knowing looks with the rest of the Circle. “Resource, wisdom, cleverness, and a certain devious cunning. Yes, have faith in your friend.”

Unwilling to bash through the crowd of locals to get to the ruined city, and only too well aware the so-called primitives knew a hell of a lot more about the situation than they were telling, O’Neill retreated, ordering stand-down of the SGC personnel, and withdrawing with Ferretti and Reynolds to take stock.

“I don’t like it, sir,” Ferretti objected. “Goes against the grain, staying out here while Daniel might need us.”

“Got another option for me, Lou? One that doesn’t involve roughing up the locals? No? No, neither do I.”

“Sir,” Reynolds said, “what about our, er, back-up?” He glanced warily at Abrams, standing sufficiently far away, but still within sight.

“They should have been here already when we arrived yesterday. They must have been delayed. And no, it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Communications had to be kept to a minimum for obvious reasons. We built a delay factor into the original plan, so Rohrbeck is playing into our hands. And no, I don’t like Daniel being in there with him either. But something’s going on, something Daniel managed to cook up with the Elders. We have to take Lamb’s advice – trust Daniel. In the meantime…” Jack led the other two SGC team leaders to Abrams.

“Any idea what’s going on at the SGC right now?”

“Sorry, sir, no. Captain Rohrbeck was playing this one close to the chest. And I don’t think he trusted me that much. But I’d guess he has a sizable force holding the Control Room, maybe the General himself. And sir… None of these new guys, or the ones he took with him into the ruin, are regular NID. I recognize a couple of faces… they’re part of Kinsey’s goon squad, sir.”

“Oh, let me guess. Rogue elements. You know, you guys are going to have to re-organize… the Rogues outnumber the regulars in your head office! Reynolds, send a couple of your guys to watch the Gate. We need advance warning of any more arrivals. But don’t let them attempt to dial out. I’m sure the General will contact us as soon as he’s regained control.”

“Wish we could give him a hand, Jack,” Ferretti muttered.

“So do I, Lou, but I’m sure they can handle Rohrbeck’s B-Team just fine without us. Our job’s to hold the line here. And wait for Daniel to show those NID bastards just who the fuck they’re dealing with.”

And, Jack acknowledged privately, hope like hell their ‘back-up’ arrived soon, so Daniel wouldn’t have to.

Å 

The harder Rohrbeck urged him forward, the more Daniel slowed, his rate of progress literally painful now, to his NID escort at any rate. And though he kept his head down, his eyes were alive and alert, darting from stone to stone along the wide, straight thoroughfare that led deep into the heart of the ruins. It was so wide and so straight, in fact, that even Rohrbeck was suspicious, ordering his men to fan out and stay alert. 

Taking point were Bravo and Charlie, (Rorhbeck obviously found it easier to relate to his men as military designations rather than real people, himself being ‘Alfa’, of course… or not) and Daniel noted they had some experience tramping about in booby-trapped terrain, for they went ahead warily, testing every cobblestone under their feet, walking low with knees bent to better dodge any sudden nasty surprise. The others tried to keep in their footsteps as much as possible, and only Delta, the man assigned to hold onto Daniel, stayed near enough to the crippled linguist to risk getting caught in whatever trap the civilian was bound to spring with his clumsy halting limp and necessary crutches.

UAV pictures from the original mission report had showed the streets of the ancient city were arranged in wheel formation, with the tallest, most imposing and intact structures in the center, arranged around an open paved plaza. But the widest avenue led directly from the plaza to the main gates next to the village. Three grand stone archways spanned the main avenue at equal intervals, no doubt marking off concentric rings, sections of the city, and Daniel fully expected them to match the main gates, completely covered in raised relief geometric designs and carved with the intricate and beautiful Furling script. So far, the shattered buildings they passed on the outer circles of the city were empty hollow shells, as Rohrbeck’s two scouts, Echo and Foxtrot, reported when he sent them inside to investigate. Whether they had been residences, shops or factories, they had long been gutted and abandoned, without roofs, sometimes without one or more walls still standing. But the grand arches, like the city walls, main gates and palaces at the center, had all been built to last.

At the first arch, Rohrbeck halted his team and beckoned Daniel’s ‘handler’ to drag him forward. 

“Time for you to do your thing, Doctor. Translate that.” 

“You’re kidding, right?” Daniel could only gape, aghast. The arch was astounding this close up, at least the size of the Arch de Triumph in Paris, and absolutely covered in script. It was awe-inspiring, it was amazing, Daniel would, under any other circumstances, be only too glad to spend days, even weeks recording and detailing just this one incredible artifact. “You do know that this is only the second site we’ve been able to definitely identify as belonging to the Furlings? And the only previous examples of their language we have is a single passage from Heliopolis, and a single cave Maybourne found? And even supposing, even supposing for a moment, that all Furling writing everywhere on every world and from God knows what periods will be in the same language and dialect… How the hell do you expect me to translate this?”

Rohrbeck eyed him with considerable dislike. “What *can* you tell me, then?”

Swallowing the first reply that came to mind, Daniel took a deep breath. “Suppose you tell me what you want me to look for.”

“Is it safe to go through this thing. Is it booby-trapped.”

Daniel stared up at the towering edifice. “I have no idea,” he answered in all honesty. “But since the houses on either side are rubble, why don’t we just go around it?”

Someone stifled a chortle, but not nearly stifled enough. Rohrbeck’s own 2IC, Golf, caught a look that promised demotion prospects when they returned. 

Å 

In the end, he had to beg.

“Aw come on, guys! Even the wild un-Goa’ulded Unas let me rest for five minutes every ten miles, and I didn’t have a broken knee-cap, and, by the way, thank you very much for that, Captain Rohrbeck.”

The rest of the team gathered to a halt around Daniel before Rohrbeck realized no one was following him any more, leaving him out in front in untested territory. Red in the face and hating Daniel more with every passing moment, Rohrbeck grudgingly cried halt, pretending it was all his own idea. Veterans Bravo and Charlie took this in stride. Echo and Foxtrot merely glanced briefly at each other. Delta collapsed in a heap beside Daniel, more exhausted than the linguist, obviously worn from the nerves of waiting for Daniel to trip something unpleasant in his vicinity. And once again, Golf smirked behind his CO’s back. 

The NID team all shrugged out of packs and dug out water bottles and snacks. Since Delta ignored him pointedly, Daniel crawled over to his babysitter’s pack and grabbed a bottle of water for himself, glaring defiantly at the NID bastard-in-command. 

The hardest thing was to keep up the limp, Daniel reflected as he tried to stretch sore and exhausted limbs. The next hardest thing had been to avoid looking at the bits of charcoal graffiti scattered at rare intervals along the thoroughfare. Little symbols over door lintels and in the shadows under overhangs, sometimes scrawled on a flat cobble or bit of half-rotted planking. Not in any script, Furling, or the increasing examples of Goa’uld that had been gouged out over the original elegant cursive – yet another example of the ugliness of Goa’uld subjugation, even if it was only over cold unfeeling stone. But no, the charcoal scribbles were merely little circle symbols. Sometimes like a side-ways smiley face, or else a circle with a cross, a dot or an ‘X’ within. Such symbols were common among many Earth cultures ancient and modern, usually representing sun, moon or planet, the main celestial bodies everyone knew. 

Nothing overt had been said, of course. There hadn’t been time before Rohrbeck and his goons had broken into the village, and dragged Daniel out of a too-sound sleep. But Daniel was something of an expert at reading between the lines, especially where it came to so-called ‘simple’ people. He thought about an agricultural community living next to a booby-trapped city, and the unhappy tendency of the young to rebel, to seek acceptance and respect among peers, or prove themselves worthy with various foolhardy and dangerous antics… No wonder the village elders had been so set against SG2 entering the ruins. It would have been an incitement to the next generation of teenagers to follow them, a double-dog-dare no self-respecting teen of any culture could deny. But given no choice, this time, Daniel thought the reaction of the Elders of the Circle somewhat… angry, yes, but not worried. In fact, Lamb had seemed more satisfied than anything, giving him a fond pat in farewell, and saying she had every confidence in him. 

The Elders of the Circle… the Circle… each Elder, in fact, had born a ceramic disk as a badge of office. Holder the Sun-disk with the dot in the center. Hill with the Earth symbol of the upright cross. Stone bore the circle and an ‘X’. Rose bore the lunar disk, with an arc to represent a new or waning moon… the sideways happy face. Lamb’s disk had shown a crude stick figure person. And when Daniel had taken his last look at the Elders, arrayed side-by-side in the village plaza as Delta dragged him away, Holder, Stone, Hill and Rose had all been frowning forbiddingly, one hand over their badges, while Lamb held hers and smiled benevolently. Holder with free arm crossed over his chest. Hill with free fist on his hip. Stone with free hand on the empty knife-scabbard at his side, the knife removed by Rohrbeck’s men. Rose with free hand on top of her head. Only Lamb had smiled sunnily at him with open arms in a gesture of welcome. 

So, basically, Daniel hoped they were telling him of the signs the village elders must have marked over the ruins, warning of dangers, booby-traps, unsafe structures… and safe refuges. And, whether he was right or wrong, he decided if he saw Lamb’s symbol, he’d take it as the only safe place to walk, take shelter or run, if and when he got the chance. 

None of the others seemed to have noted the charcoal scrawls yet. And while Daniel grilled himself over the moral implications of keeping silent… Rohrbeck stood over him and ordered him to spill about the Goa’uld-sign they had found so far. Rohrbeck had been quick to recognize the Goa’uld markings, appearing with increasing frequency as they approached the second arch – half way to the central plaza. Overlaid above or gouged into the stonework of the city were the hieroglyphic figures of a Goa’uld dialect familiar to Daniel, closely related to that of Ra and Apophis. And though someone had tried to scratch out and chip away to remove every mention of an actual identity, Daniel could trace the cartouche of a name… Aten. Odd choice of name for a Goa’uld, he thought… of all the Egyptian pantheon, Aten came closest to being an imaginary construct, rather than a truly worshipped deity… only one pharaoh had believed in the solar deity, the first monotheist on Earth, Akenaten. For the brief span of time he ruled, at least. A brief span of glory, and then oblivion. Pretty much of a self-fulfilling prophecy, Daniel figured. 

But the moment Daniel strayed to Earth historical references, Rohrbeck abruptly cut him off.

“If it isn’t directly related to advanced technology hidden here by that Goa’uld, I don’t want to hear it, Jackson,” Rohrbeck snapped at him, then called out, “That’s it. Up and at ‘em.”

Okaaay, Daniel thought as he struggled to his feet, while Rohrbeck’s men stood around and smirked or ignored his ostentatious difficulties. Charcoal scrawls definitely did not come under the heading of advanced tech, and none of these bastards had sufficiently endeared themselves to him to deserve the time of day. 

Å 

As the morning wore on, and Daniel’s almost-genuine limp became more pronounced and his gait slower, the archeologist spent more attention on the alien landscape around him. The outer sections of the city nearest the walls appeared to be the residential and industrial areas. Between the first and second arches was a region devoted to mercantile concerns. Second to third appeared to be large institutional buildings. Daniel speculated wildly about hospitals, churches, schools. When Rohrbeck demanded his opinion he gave it, and so Echo and Foxtrot were sent in one door… with a small charcoal ‘X’ over the arching front gate. The rest of the team waited, taking advantage of the opportunity to rest, no doubt lulled by the fact they had passed the half-way mark and not encountered any problems… so far.

Until a crash and a high-pitched scream echoed from the dark opening. 

“Bravo! Point!” Rohrbeck shouted, and the rest of the team trailed warily behind, not so much to go to the rescue, as in morbid curiosity to see what had happened. 

If they had followed protocol, Daniel knew they would have entered the huge rotunda of the building and kept close to the walls as they circled around. But this rotunda had a large gilded box in the centre that would have proved an irresistible lure… a large gilded box, so obviously of Goa’uld design, suspended on a tilt-table that had abruptly dumped the unlucky Echo into a pit below. Foxtrot stood on the very edge, looking shocked and immobile, his P-90 aimed vaguely downward. 

An ‘X’, and Stone had held a hand over his knife scabbard. As Daniel approached the pit brim and peered down, his eyes slowly adjusted to the lower light level enough to make out Echo, sprawled at the bottom, about a storey down. Daniel could tell that, at one time, the floor of the pit had been fitted with stakes. Oh, how clichéd. Sharpened stakes at the bottom of a pit. Disarmed of its pointy bits, the fall had been dangerous, but not fatal. Echo moved and groaned, then clutching his right leg, bent in an unnatural angle at the knee, he keened softly. 

The gilded box lay by him, shattered into bits… a thin coating over wood, and it had obviously been empty. Just a lure for the foolish.

Helpfully, Daniel called down, “You’ve got a broken knee. Try not to move it too much. A brace helps a little.” He smiled brightly at all the glowering faces scowling at him. “That hurts. A lot.”

Rohrbeck growled something under his breath. “Bravo, you have medic training. See what you can do for him.” 

Foxtrot and Charlie helped lower Bravo into the hole, while Golf approached the Captain.

“I can tell you what we can do for him,” Daniel answered cheerfully. “We can get him back to the Stargate and take him home. That knee needs to be set. Unless you want to cripple him for life, like you probably did to me? Too bad. Kinda blows your mission out of the water, doesn’t it?”

Rohrbeck was running out of new negative looks to send Daniel’s way, but then, the man had never been very imaginative. Instead, he turned to his 2IC. “Obviously, he can’t go on with us. We’ll make him as comfortable as possible, and collect him on the way back. Mark the entrance with something so we can find him again.”

“You’re going to leave him?” Daniel demanded, aghast. “You’re kidding, right?”

“We have a mission, Jackson.”

“I know, but… the Elders said there were wild animals, predators, in these ruins. Big ones. We’ve seen the signs already. The remains of that elk-thing just past the second arch? Something the size of a large wolf took that down, probably in a pack. Leaving Echo behind, wounded and crippled like this…”

“He’ll have a weapon for defense.” 

“And if he passes out from pain or shock? Either condition highly likely if he goes untreated, I can tell you from personal experience! How much good is a weapon going to do him? To get past the pain you need to give him morphine, and that also won’t let him stay awake and alert.”

“Not your problem, Jackson. Out, now. Delta? Take him out.”

Daniel appealed to the rest of the team. “You can’t let him do this. That man is a member of your team!”

None of them would look at him or acknowledge as Delta strong-armed him back to the street. 

In another five minutes, Rohrbeck and the other four remaining members joined Delta, and Daniel was forced to his feet again. 

“You bastards. You unmitigated bastards. If anything happens to that man, it’s on you, all of you! And you realize, all of you, that if Rohrbeck leaves one of you, he’ll leave all of you to die here? And for what! A treasure you don’t even know exists?”

“Shut up, Jackson.”

“No! At least leave his pack with him! Make sure he has food and water and a radio, in case we can’t come back for him.”

“Makes sense, sir,” Golf admitted grudgingly.

Rohrbeck ground his teeth together before barking out, “Do it. Now, move out!”

Å 

The third arch was similar to the others, but beyond it were the governing buildings, parks and fountains, all long dead and silent. The gardens were overrun with brambles and weeds, and there was more evidence of the Goa’uld subjugation in the ruins. Tumbled stones were jig-saw puzzles of the alien statues that had once stood at every road juncture, replaced by one dedicated to Aten and similarly tumbled. Daniel had seen more of the charcoal warnings, but Charlie and Foxtrot had been wary and careful of obvious traps, even managed to safely trip a few. But one thing they had not found was any artifacts of Goa’uld or Furling origins.

Daniel had objected almost constantly since they had left Echo, but none of the injured man’s team-mates were prepared to stick their necks out for him, and all it got Daniel was a couple of back-handed slaps across the face. Until Rohrbeck broke. 

“Shut the fuck up, Jackson!”

“I won’t shut up, you son of a bitch! You’re going to get us all killed for nothing! Nothing! There’s nothing here, can’t you get that into your thick skull? If there was anything from the Furlings, Aten would have found it. And anything he had was taken when the System Lords caught up to him.”

“Delta, if he doesn’t shut up, you shut him up, understood?”

“What the hell makes you think that’s—“

A sharp blow across Daniel’s cheek sent him reeling and tumbling to his rump on the stones. And one particularly large paving stone with a charcoal dot in a circle, sank slightly into the street with a grinding sound. The team froze, and before they could identify the danger, a volley of arrows erupted from a nearby statue pedestal, dedicated to Aten. 

Delta screamed, one of the arrows piecing the fleshy part of his arm, right through his BDU uniform. No one else was injured. Daniel stayed where he was, on his ass, well below the trajectory of the trap. But when Bravo broke the arrow lodged in Delta and tossed the pieces to the ground, Daniel thoughtfully picked up the half with the point. An old, dark stain discolored the naquadah point. 

Rohrbeck demanded, “How bad is it? Can you travel?”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” Delta reported, and Daniel winced at the horribly clichéd dialogue as Bravo the medic bandaged the wound. “I’m fine, sir,” Delta added, but his eyes were already blinking heavily. 

“Oh sure, it’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye,” Daniel muttered. “I don’t think you’re going to stay okay, Delta. That arrow was tainted.” He wondered briefly why this trap hadn’t been disarmed, as many of the others they had found had been, patently less lethal than they could have been. Perhaps the Elders of the Circle had counted on being able to catch up with their adventuring teens before they got so far. 

Daniel held up his evidence even as Delta turned a vile shade of green, fell to his knees, and began vomiting. Ten minutes later, now bringing up bile and the insides of his stomach, the exhausted NID agent slumped weakly to the stones. 

Rohrbeck, livid now, knelt by the second stricken member of his team. “You’ve got a choice, soldier. We can leave you out here, or put you inside one of these buildings.”

“Out here, sir,” Delta whispered faintly, glancing around at the canyons of the alien city, the lengthening shadows of late afternoon marking grim stone walls and alleys. Apparently, he didn’t like the idea of being trapped inside with no escape in case of predators. With his back to a wall, he must figure he stood a better chance… if he could keep awake with the remnants of that ancient poison coursing through his bloodstream. 

Daniel tried to get even one of the others to look him in the eye. “He’s going to get you all killed. You must know that. One by one. Dead or left to die.”

“Golf! You take the good Doctor, and keep him quiet.”

And with that the reduced team forged on. At least Delta got to keep his pack, with weapon and a radio.

Å 

Daniel had already given his opinion that, even if there was anything left in the ruins worth looking for, they were unlikely to find it outside the main palace complex in the very centre of the Furling city, the building that had been most heavily used and modified by the Goa’uld Aten in his brief stay. Since this intel had come from the Elders, a suspect source as far as Rohrbeck was concerned, the NID Captain continued to send his men into any building that looked even remotely promising. Golf did have a monitor, much like Sam’s, that registered energy sources and the presence of naquadah, but neither had dinged within the hundred-metre range during the whole journey.

Foxtrot had whirled at a startling noise, let off his P-90 and brought half a building down on his head. He was alive, but pinned under a heavy beam with one leg broken, if not crushed. There was too much debris holding the beam for the rest of the team to move before full dark, so Rohrbeck didn’t even try, just dragged an angry and protesting Daniel away, with a big chunk of broken marble in his hands.

Charlie had triggered another booby-trap from an obvious Goa’uld structure, covered in hieroglyphs Daniel had identified as praising Aten (name scratched out) and warning dire consequences if any disbeliever dared defile it. It also had a little waning moon in charcoal over the only door. And in spite of all the care in the world, when the grinding noise telegraphed the warning and Charlie and Golf darted for the door, that was where the swinging beam caught Charlie and hurled him into a wall, with a concussion and a broken collar bone. He was still unconscious and unlikely to recover with the daylight fast dwindling. 

So, by the time they reached the central plaza, a large, paved expanse the size of a football field with dry fountains and empty gardens, they were down two more men. Sunset left little light in the sky, fast seeping away. It was clearly too late to go into the Palace itself, not with just flashlights when booby-traps were such a present danger. They’d have to wait till dawn, at least. This set the NID agents on edge, tense and irritated. 

Bravo and Golf set up camp, leaving Rohrbeck to scowl at Daniel, slumped limply on a marble bench with his back to a wall, exhausted from head to toe. And as a camp-fire sent dancing shadows over the surrounding ruins, they heard the first distant roar echoing down the long streets and avenues. No one needed to say it… the nocturnal predators were awake and hunting. 

“They sound big,” Bravo commented.

“They sound hungry,” Daniel observed cheerfully. “I wonder who they’ll find first? Charlie isn’t even awake to defend himself. He’d be the easiest prey.”

“Shut. Up.” Rohrbeck commanded. 

“You’ll have to set up a watch,” Daniel declared. “And you know I’d be glad to take a turn, but then, you don’t trust me, do you?”

Rohrbeck gave him a speculative look. “You’d be stupid to try and run in the dark... no, sorry, limp in the dark. And I don’t think you have it in you to kill us in your sleep…”

“Kill? Oh no. Probably not. Although… You don’t really know me at all, do you, Captain Rohrbeck? If you did, you’d have found out how to make me talk by now, an expert interrogator like you. You still don’t have a clue, do you?”

Bravo passed out MRE’s then settled into place beside Golf, both men trying to pretend they weren’t listening avidly, and weren’t amused by their leader’s obvious frustration.

“Suppose you tell me then. Why won’t you talk?”

Daniel grinned. “You know, that’s the first intelligent thing you’ve ever said to me. You or any of your counterparts.”

“You going to answer?”

“You know, I think I will. It has to do with a dream I had once, given to me by the Harcessis. In the dream, you understand, I was given all the knowledge of the Goa’uld… in particular the specs for a planetary defense system… exactly the kind of technology we’ve been looking for from the very first mission to Abydos. So, in the dream, I built it. And it worked. And I used it. And when I had burned down Moscow, London, New York… oh, half a dozen other cities, the rest of the world finally capitulated and submitted to my rule. I had become a Goa’uld… just without the symbiote in my head. I had everything else, after all. All that knowledge, all that memory, of a thousand Hitlers in my head.”

“In a dream.”

“A teaching dream. To show me what could happen if advanced technology fell into hands that could not be trusted with it. Hands that would abuse the power. Hands that abused any power they were given. To get me to talk, Agent Rohrbeck, to get me to translate that blueprint from P5X303, all you had to do was prove to me you could be trusted not to abuse your power.”

Daniel smiled widely up at the NID agent looming over him with a weapon. as he ostentatiously straightened out his damaged leg and gingerly removed the brace. 

“Guess what? You failed the test.”

Daniel finished his rations with relish and thoroughly enjoyed the coffee Bravo served him, with darkness making the plaza a gloomy, nightmarish landscape with the echo of hunting predators filling the ancient ruins.

“Well, it’s been fun, guys, but it’s been a long day, and I’m tired. Have a good watch.” And he settled himself on the supplied bedroll and went right to sleep. 

Å 

In spite of Bravo’s quite excellent coffee, Daniel woke up slowly and feeling cranky. This was the second morning in a row he was unable to shave, and only allowed a quick dry-wash. His face felt itchy and he was filthy and smelly. But at that, he was in a significantly better mood than the NID agents – certainly better rested. And although he had kept his eyes peeled, he had only seen two signs the previous day that indicated a safe path… Lamb’s stick figure sign. 

Rohrbeck, antsy and anxious to finish, hurried the team to the big gilded Goa’uld-style doors on the Palace. Was there a more obvious trap in the entire city? Daniel didn’t need to see the charcoal signs – all four warning symbols over the vestibule main arch, to guess that. 

But, over an unobtrusive side vestry entrance, finally, was the stick figure he had been searching for. 

Rohrbeck, however, pushed them into the central hall, where an invisible trip-wire of some kind sent Bravo down with a single zat-blast… out for the count, though still alive. 

Up the wide, innocent-looking marble stairway, was a set of more golden doors – locked. And in Rohrbeck’s amazingly simple philosophy, anything locked had to be something worth getting into. 

“Well? Can you open it?”

“See that Goa’uld script over the door-frame? It has another one of those warnings. It’s probably just another trap. Even the Goa’uld aren’t dumb enough to call attention to something valuable they might have left behind. I mean… think about it! Why leave it behind at all, unless it’s too big or too dangerous in the first place?”

Golf, increasingly nervous, suggested, “Maybe he’s right, sir.”

“Shut up! Can you get us past these doors or not, Jackson?”

“I can try,” Daniel submitted with a sigh, and set to work. 

It took almost an hour, but Daniel finally figured out the sequence of glyphs required to unlock the big doors. However, once the latch had clicked, causing both men to jump and whirl around to see what had happened, Rohrbeck pushed him back and he and Golf took point, warily stepping inside a room like the inside of a ha-tak mothership… walls lined in gold panels, incised over every inch with hieroglyphs. 

The moment both men had crossed the threshold, Daniel calmly shut the door on them and touched one glyph to lock it. With luck, it would take them a good long while to figure out the combination from the other side, even if they had been paying attention to Daniel after an hour of boredom, more nervous about watching their own six than watching him work. 

The doors were heavy enough Daniel only heard a faint thumping and clatter as they first tried to shoot their way out. Idiots. They’d be lucky not to shoot out the opening mechanism, or each other, from the inevitable ricochets. 

Daniel didn’t waste any time, abandoning the un-needed crutches, cautiously descending the stairs to the main floor, keeping to the wall, then locating the almost hidden side-door Lamb had marked. He went slowly and carefully, his knee healed but the leg still weak from a month of immobility, and sore after forced limping for the past day. 

The plan was to follow Lamb’s marked path back to the village, sneak past Jack and any SGC personnel still there, tell the Elders where the members of Rohrbeck’s team could be found, then high-tail it to the Stargate. He knew from Nyan that he could find refuge on any of a dozen other planets… Chulak, Land of Light, even Chaka’s or Iron Shit’s domains. What he would do then… he didn’t know. He’d have to think about that later. 

He had known his career, perhaps even his life, was at an end the moment he had seen those alien specs on P5X303. Just seeing them. Recognizing exactly what they were… he had felt his stomach drop and a wave of dizziness made him reel sideways… disorientation as too much memory slammed into him, along with an almost pre-cognitive knowledge of what was going to come. Every hope, every dream, every plan laid waste. Because he had known then there was no way on Earth he could give those keys to anyone. Anyone.

All the pain, all the losses, all the sacrifices… all the energy he had invested in this life, this endeavor… all the half-formed nebulous hopes for a future that wouldn’t be spent alone because maybe, just maybe, Jack might one day find it in him to get past military regs and military law and an illustrious and long-standing heterosexual career, and see him standing there, waiting, willing… in love with his best friend as he had been for a very long time. 

Oh well. It wouldn’t be the first time his life had been crushed under a falling stone… was it up to six by now? No doubt it wouldn’t be the last, either, considering his luck.

Shaking his head to clear it, well aware of the danger if he let his focus or attention wander in this death-trap of a city, Daniel resolutely followed the clearly marked trail to safety. 

Å 

It was late afternoon by the time he got to the city wall. His unused muscles and newly-repaired leg were just screaming, and he was more exhausted than he thought he could be… truly out of shape after months in a ten-by-ten cell. But at least he had successfully navigated past the obstacle course that was the stolen city of Aten. He followed Lamb’s signs to a narrow wooden door which opened on a narrow circling stair in a round tower to the sentry walk on the top of the ancient walls. A litter of sand, leaves, branches made the path difficult for the weary, sore archeologist, but Daniel, leaning low enough to take advantage of the cover of the balustrade, crept along till he had the village in view. 

He was glad (but not particularly surprised) to see the SGC was back in control. Apart from those keeping watch on Rohrbeck’s renegades, they seemed to be just hanging around the cobble-stone square, playing with the kids, flirting with the local maidens, testing the local beverages, only Captain Linus actually working on the inscriptions covering the walls. Daniel checked the Elders were also just hanging around the plaza, some surreptitiously glancing at the city gates every once in a while. Were they all expecting him to just come waltzing back? A couple of members of SG3 were missing… guarding the Gate, probably. That was a problem. 

No sign of Jack, either. Doing a perimeter check? Trying to contact the SGC? Putting a call to the Alpha Site? No way to tell. 

Daniel settled with his back to a stone buttress, to wait for the cover of darkness… and slumped asleep before he realized. 

Å


	6. So Long and Thanks for All the Fish

Å 

A noise awoke him. He looked up to see an al’kesh hovering just above the village, even with the top of the wall, and in the front viewport, there was a very familiar face grinning at him, and giving a wave. Bemused, Daniel waved back, and struggled back to his sore legs to prepare to repel down the wall. There was rope enough in his pack for that, and he had never wanted to use so obvious an exit as the big gate doors.

When he got to the ground, he found several of the older kids, the Council helpers, holding his rope and helping him land. They chattered congratulations at him, eyes wide with incipient hero-worship. Even though Lamb had been sure he would return safely, she hadn’t convinced many others. They took his hands and lead him firmly to the Council hut, past a whole lot of SGC personnel who had their backs ostentatiously turned. The al’kesh now sat in the very centre of the plaza, also being ignored. 

When he faced the Elders, even Rose bowed to him, looking far less forbidding than she had before. 

Daniel bowed and took a piece of paper from his pocket which he passed to Holder. “This is where Rohrbeck’s men were when I last saw them. I expect Rohrbeck and Golf have escaped from the main palace by now. The others were all injured to some extent or other… I just hope they managed to survive exposure and the predators. You can rescue them?”

“You left them?” Rose demanded. 

“Rohrbeck left them. I had no choice in the matter.”

Rose shook her head at him, giving the smallest of smiles to the beaming Lamb. “I concede, my sister,” she told her fellow Elder. “He is indeed a person of great resource and determination.”

“Still,” Holder said, “Rohrbeck and his men will be gathered and escorted to the Gate. They will not be permitted to return.”

“I doubt they will be offered the chance,” said a dark voice behind Daniel. The linguist turned to find Teal’c, with Sam and Jacob, coming out of the shadows. 

Daniel grinned, as his friends came forward to engulf him in a warm group hug. “Guys. I’m so glad to see you. Jack told me you’d left the SGC… because of me… I’m so sorry…”

Sam chuckled, and glanced at her father, who laughed outright. “You were right, Sammy. She bet me you’d find a way to make this your fault within your first breath. Relax, Daniel. The Pentagon, and the White House, were due for a wake-up call. The way they treated you was just the last of a whole bale of straws. If they want to play in the galactic sand-box, they have to learn a whole new set of playground rules. Running with scissors is right out, which is what they’ve been doing with this weapon hunt of theirs. And punishing you because you were the first one to tell them so… it’s inexcusable. So. We’ve come to give you a lift.”

“A lift… where?”

“Anywhere you wish to go, DanielJackson,” Teal’c assured him. “You would be a joy and a considerable asset to anyone you chose to grace with your presence.”

“We can talk about that later,” Sam offered, giving Teal’c a warning glance. At Daniel’s raised eyebrow she explained, “We’ve been arguing the whole way here. The Tok’ra Council and the Jaffa rebellion leaders are in a kind of bidding war right now. Plus Chaka keeps calling to see if we’ve found you yet… He seems to think you’ve got more sense than to go with either of those groups when you could hang with him. Seems Iron Shirt has some big ideas for joining the war on the Goa’uld and wants to discuss things with you and Chaka over… I’m not sure I got the translation right. Ka-vir?”

“Oh… um…” Daniel hesitated. “I really hope it isn’t what I think it is. Well… I assume the SGC personnel out there are going to let me just walk right out?”

“What SGC personnel?” said another voice. And Jack emerged. After a shake of the hand with Jacob and Teal’c and a gingerly hug with Sam, he then grabbed Daniel in a big heart-felt hug. “Jesus, Daniel. You okay?”

“I’m fine, Jack. No, really. Lamb repaired my leg and I guess my gut too, because it doesn’t ache anymore… I’m going to need some exercise to get back in shape, but… It’s going to be okay if I just walk out of here?”

“That’s the plan,” Jack said. “Our official reports are going to be full of details on how Rohrbeck took you and his team into the city, and none of us saw you after that. We’ll let *him* tell everyone how you managed to escape his custody. Whether they believe him or not… His problem, not ours. So…”

“So.”

“You’re… good to go.”

“I guess I am. But…” Daniel glanced at Sam with a wry smile “I really am sorry about this.”

“Oh, p-shaw,” Jack waved it away. “We’ll get it sorted out eventually. It’s a mess, but we’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

Daniel nodded, his throat suddenly closing up on him, too much to speak for a moment as he fought back the sting of tears. 

Jacob took pity on the members of SG1, mourning the loss of their team and family, unhappily anticipating a bleak separation without any idea when it would end. “Danny, you finished here? We should really make tracks.”

“Right… right. Oh!” Daniel pulled something out of his pack, made to hand it to Jack, then changed his mind and tossed it on the ground. “That’s for Rohrbeck. I hope he finds it… enlightening.”

Jack glowered at the thought his archeologist would have a gift for the NID agent and not for him, but when he made to bend over and pick it up, Daniel caught his arm and shook his head. “No, Jack. Leave it for Rohrbeck. Best if you don’t have any fingerprints on it to incriminate you. Trust me.” 

Jack nodded. 

After a final farewell to the Elders and his ex-CO, Daniel followed the rest of his team to the al’kesh. At the gaping door, he called out, “And to anyone who might be able to hear me, even if they can’t remember seeing me here… thanks, guys. Take care. And Ferretti, for God’s sake be careful and don’t get into any more messes when I can’t come to bail you out!”

“Yeah, and good bye to any archeologists who might be hanging around, but should really be getting the hell out of here, soon as!” Ferretti tossed back, to be echoed by the other members of SG2 and 3.

The al’kesh hatch closed and the ship lifted off and sped away into the night sky, with everyone waving silently.

Å 

Rohrbeck and Golf had managed to open the Palace doors, but had only succeeded in getting a few blocks from the main square before they fell to another booby-trap – another pit without stakes. The Elders had sent a hunting team to recover the NID men, and found them all somewhat the worse for wear. None of them was offered extraordinary healing methods… bandages, salves and potions were as much as the locals felt were required. 

Luckily, even as Rohrbeck’s team was brought back by the hunting party, the Stargate wormhole connected, and Hammond called through the MALP, to report that the base had been retaken, the President had gone postal over the NID abuses of their mandate, and all NID personnel were being ordered to return to Washington, under lock and key, for a full Presidential inquiry and disciplinary action that no one expected would be anything like as bad as they deserved, or Dr. Jackson had already suffered at their hands. However, Cheyenne Mountain SFs had taken great pleasure in shutting leg and waist manacles on every single NID member. Abrams took it in stride… but then, he was the only one who had a shot at continuing his career once the dust settled. 

Å 

The package was waiting for Jack when he got back to his office, Daniel’s unmistakable neat printing on the outside of the manila envelope. There was a hand-written cover letter on top of the small stack of laser printed pages. 

“Dear Jack: No matter how the mission to rescue SG2 turns out, or what I have to do to ensure its success, I won’t be returning to Earth. So I’m leaving this as an apology and explanation for my actions. I’m hoping this will explain what I couldn’t before - I know you’ve been itching with curiosity. I couldn’t tell you to your face… I couldn’t say this to anyone to their faces. You’ll understand why. Feel free to show it to anyone you think might benefit. I have a notebook I’ll leave for Rohrbeck, and I’ve got copies for Sam and Teal’c when (and if) I ever see them. If I’m actually dead (again, but for the last time this time, I promise), I hope you’ll see they get copies. I want them to know, too. Good bye, Jack. Thanks for everything.”

Å 

Colonel Jack O’Neill read the story alone in his office. Ignored the knocking on his door, and the persistent ringing of his phone. Got to the last page. 

“Jack begged me not to do it. Begged me. I did it anyway. His eyes clouded over as I took the hysterical calls of half a dozen governments – including our own. He screamed and yelled and threw himself against my shield as I targeted one city after another. He attacked my staff, trying to shake them, to get them to help him stop me. Didn’t happen. After Paris blossomed into light on the screens and vanished, he collapsed in a heap on the steps at my feet, arms wrapped around his knees, head lowered and hidden in defeat.

“Half an hour after that, New York was gone as well, and all the major governments of the Earth had capitulated to my demands.

“Then and only then, I lowered my shield, and came and sat beside him, a friendly hand patting his shoulder. 

“‘It’s okay now, Jack. All over. I’m in control now, and I’ll make things better. I’ll run the world the way it ought to be run. You’ll see.’

“He moved so fast. An arm wrapped around my neck, pinning me to his side in a parody of an intimate embrace, his face frighteningly blank, but damp from silent tears. He whispered in my ear, ‘Sorry, Danny…’

“The very last sound I heard was the crack of my neck being snapped.

“And then, as they say, I woke up.

“The story should have ended there, or at least, with making the decision we should have made in the first place, to let Shifu return to Oma Desala without any attempt to force him to remember the knowledge of the Goa’uld, knowing what it could do to an innocent young boy. But the story did not end there. Because, six months ago, on a mission with SG12, I stared at a wall inscribed with the schematics for a Goa’uld tech, a combination weapon and a planetary defense shield. The very same one I had built in my dream.

“The only way to win is to deny the fight. So that is what I did. I denied the fight. I could not build that weapon again, knowing what it could do in the wrong hands. And in these past three months, all that I have learned is that those who want that knowledge most are the very worst of hands to whom I could turn it over. For they have ignored right, justice, law and every human ethical consideration, and justified it to themselves in just the way I did in my dream… for the greater good of the nation they would protect, at the cost of any other, believing they knew better than I did, or the lawmakers did. That the ends justified any means. Even my death.

“I remember reasoning like that. As I blew Moscow, Paris, New York, apart.

“Before, mercifully, I heard the sharp crack of my neck snapping, before I could do even worse.”

Jack’s face was, oddly enough, damp from silent tears, as he finished the last sentence, carefully tapped the pages into order and slipped them back in the envelope. Then he got up to take them to General Hammond. 

Jack was determined. There were a lot of people who could benefit from this story of good intentions gone oh-so wrong, of absolute power corrupting the best and the brightest… of the dangers of too much technology given too easily, too fast. A lesson, it seemed, that had to be re-learned too damned often, the hard way, before it made any impact. Even on him. 

Å 

Daniel sat at the pel’tac console, staring out the forward viewer on the magical light-show of hyperspace spinning by. Thinking… trying not to think. Not looking back at his companions, scattered around the lounge of the al’kesh, each with a copy of his journal, each reading about a year of his life that never actually happened, but that haunted him still. And when they returned, one by one to join him, he still couldn’t look at any of them. 

After a long still silence, Sam nudged him in the shoulder, and in an artificially light, teasing tone, said, “You had me arrested? You jerk.”

Daniel smiled wanly. “Believe me, you look better in the day-glo orange than I do.”

And that was about as much humor as he had ever been able to find in the situation. 

There was a long, contemplative silence after Teal’c and Jacob finished reading. Since the others seemed so reluctant to make the first comment, Jacob voluntarily rushed into the breach. 

“So, Danny. You tossed my little girl in a cell.”

Daniel took a deep breath, but only nodded. He lifted wary blue eyes to meet Jacob’s, ready for condemnation. Fully expecting it, and doing everything he could to brace himself.

Jacob grinned, giving his little girl a sly grin. “To tell the truth, I’ve had that urge since she turned thirteen. Even grounding her didn’t always work. In fact—“

“Dad!” Sam was startled into a choke of laughter, then glanced guiltily at her mortified friend. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I know you want us to take this seriously, but… I just… I just can’t see you as an evil overlord.”

Jacob coughed on a comment from Selmak, “And I thank every real god there may be that Dr. Jackson has not been taken by a Goa’uld. Such intelligence, cunning and control, merged with the avarice and power-lust of our enemy… does not bear thinking of!” 

“I mean,” Sam went on, “even yelling at the General those two times was only because you were high… first on the sarcophagus, then on that Pleasure Palace Light. In your own mind… well, you would never act that way. Those impulses belonged to Apophis and a thousand Goa’ulds before him. Not to you. You would never act on them.”

“But I did, Sam. In the dream—“

“In the dream. Daniel, I trust you, with my life. With my whole planet. I trust you. I always have, from the first moment we met. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone I trusted so completely, so instantly. But we… connected, you and I, from the first.”

The very word, ‘trust’, seemed to work like a lash, making Daniel wince away, cringing every time it was uttered. “Which is why you were the only one to even suspect me. The only one, Sam, no matter how… weird I was acting. You know me too well.”

“Too well? Look… all I’m saying is… it was a dream. A dream version of you, swamped by that terrible, terrible knowledge… there’s nothing for you to feel guilty about, and I can’t believe you’ve been carrying this around for so long, torturing yourself with it.”

Daniel made an exclamation of frustration. “Don’t you understand? All this… it *IS* inside me! It’s a part of me I struggle to control, to repress, every moment of every day! The envy, jealousy, ambition, desire for control, for power, the… the lust for control… it’s always been a part of me.”

“And I can see that, I understand. Do you think I’m any different? We both know too well what it’s like to be totally helpless, without control, at the mercy of others… losing a parent does that to a child. And that loss of control, that achingly horrible vulnerability that comes with helplessness… we overreact, overcompensate, take control, take responsibility, even when it isn’t ours. Daniel, this isn’t yours.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. You wouldn’t, couldn’t let your demons out this way.”

“You think Shifu’s dream was untrue?”

“No, I’m not saying that. But short of subjecting you to Goa’uld possession… it wouldn’t happen. Of course you have urges and impulses, we all do. But we don’t act them out when we’re in our right minds. You wouldn’t act on them.”

“Wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t I, Sam? I threw you in jail. I had you killed, Teal’c. Part of that was Apophis and his anger at being betrayed… but part of it had to be me, or it never would have happened, even in a dream. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“There is no need, Danieljackson.”

Daniel shrugged, unable to see that point. “I… I want to think it was because you had the best chance of uncovering what I was really after and stopping me… I’m not sure I’ve convinced myself of that. With you gone… Sam, you were the only other one who saw through the act. The only one who realized I wasn’t the harmless, inoffensive scholar, academic… geek. I… I know it was a dream, but even so… thank you, for being the only one who really took me seriously. Even if it was as a threat. Because I was. A loose canon with far too much power in my hands. And by the time anyone listened to you, it was too late. I bombed Moscow, then Tokyo, Paris, London, Delhi and New York. I didn’t take out Washington because I really wanted the White House for myself. Millions, billions dead in the space of an hour. I did that. No one else. Me. I destroyed the world. And it was so easy… so damned easy… I *became* a Goa’uld.”

“’The only way to win is to deny the battle’,” Sam quoted softly. Daniel nodded. 

Teal’c and Jacob had wisely stayed out of it, until now. But Teal’c saw something in his young friend, something Sam had missed in her need to comfort an obviously distraught teammate. 

“You have acted on one impulse revealed in your dream, have you not, Danieljackson? And it shames you.”

Wide blue eyes glistened with threatened tears. Mouth clenched in a thin line, he nodded.

“What impulse?” Sam demanded, utterly shocked. For which Jacob was extremely grateful, because, consumed as he and Selmak both were by curiosity, he didn’t quite dare to ask. But it was Teal’c who answered.

”In your moment of greatest triumph, with all you wanted, all you had worked for within your grasp, there was one at your side. One and only one you permitted to share your success, to witness your victory. One you have loved for a very long time without daring to acknowledge it. But with the world at your feet, and the arrogance and unbridled will of the Goa’uld driving you, you would dare even that, to reach out and grab the dearest wish of your heart. Take it and keep it.”

One tear did escape, defiantly rolling down Daniel’s cheek. And now he couldn’t face any of them.

“Oh my God…” Sam whispered. “The Colonel? You and… but… Holy Hannah…” Sam almost trembled as seven years of adventures flashed through her mind. Her own brief occasional forays into daydreams of might-have and would-have-been… a flirtation with what she always knew could never be real, and safe to indulge for that very reason. Because even though he did care more than he should, he had never cared more than reason, more than honor or duty or dedication to his oaths of service. Give his life for her? In a heartbeat, as she would for him, as any of her teammates would for each other. Give up his career? Never. Nor would she. Nor would either of them expect it of the others. Their feelings for each other just weren’t like that, never had been, never would be. 

But the Colonel and Daniel… When he was lost, in danger, in pain, who did Daniel call for first? When he needed, wanted to be heard, who did he turn to? And the Colonel… She was always ‘Carter’, or ‘Major’. But it was always ‘Daniel’ or ‘Danny’, even ‘Danny-boy’. Always. And always the Colonel’s passion, whether it be fear, anger, frustration, was for Daniel. Banging heads, clapping backs, ruffling hair… a thousand tokens of affection he allowed himself with Daniel, and no one else. Even that first moment she had seen them together in the Abydos gate room, she suddenly saw, not a grown man, ex-Special Ops Colonel in the Air Force, for whom she had every respect, but a ten-year-old boy saving his worst delinquent tricks with live frogs and ink-wells for the little kid he secretly had a crush on. Nagging, teasing, bedeviling every moment, every opportunity, nudge nudge poke poke, anything to get and keep that attention focused on him where he wanted it. 

For a while, before Kelowna, that friction between them had turned nasty, dangerous, hurtful, the barbs sharp enough to cut. But losing their archeologist…. Don’t even think about that bleak, joyless year, struggling to make do, not only with a replacement Daniel who would always suffer by comparison, but by an absentee Colonel, so far withdrawn from them he might as well have phoned his role in. And since Daniel had returned to them… the warmth and fondness was back, the playing more subtle, more cautious, a little less openly tactile, but still there. 

Sam shook her head, suddenly mortified. “I’ve been blind.”

Her tone caught Daniel on the raw, and of course he misunderstood. “It wasn’t Jack’s fault. Mine. All my… I… I couldn’t leave him alone. Once I knew… that… about myself… it was only once, and there was never anything to it on Jack’s side. Just… stress relief. Scratching an itch. And… I… I was very available. Went out of my way to be. Please, don’t blame Jack. It was never… he never… It was me. And I knew how wrong it was. How dangerous. We weren’t just buddy fucking each other, it would have been the team, you and Teal’c, Jack’s own career, the SGC… the whole damn planet. So it was only once. And after that… well, I really had fucked up, because Jack and I… we weren’t even friends after that. 

“Sam, Teal’c, I need you to understand. Jack and I were friends. Best friends, but that was all there was, I swear. Until that dream. I never realized, never even suspected that I felt anything more than friendship for him. But then… In the dream, if it had gone any further, if Jack hadn’t stopped me cold, I would have… I even planned… I didn’t have to jail Sam. She wasn’t a serious threat to me, and even if I thought she was, I would have had her killed too, just like Teal’c. But she… she could send Jack to me. Even then I knew… if it came to it, if Jack was forced to chose, it would always be Sam. You, Sam. You’re the one he really cares for, you’re the one he trusts. It’s always been that way, from the first. You, not me.”

“Daniel, you’re wrong—“

“No, I’m not. It’s okay, I know… I put you in jail because I knew that’s the one thing that would send Jack back to me. Into my hands. And if I had my way, he was never going to leave that bunker. And if he didn’t submit willingly, I would have… raped him. He was mine and I just didn’t care about anything else. And after, when I woke up… I fought it. Hard as I could. I refused to believe I… could be that way. Either that my love for Jack went beyond simple friendship, or that I could so easily hurt him so much… And then… in the Pleasure Palace…”

“Daniel, we were all coming down from the addiction, and you were so much worse than we were because of your longer exposure and then the drastic effects of coming down. We—“

“Sam! Please! I… I had to admit to myself what I did… I was… obsessed. Dangerously obsessed with my commanding officer, my straight, career military, ex-Special Ops, best friend. And I… I knew I shouldn’t, I knew how much damage it could do him, how much risk it would put him in… and for that one moment, I… I ignored all of it. I could have destroyed him, Sam, wrecked his career, the team, everything we’ve fought for, all we’ve lost. I could have destroyed it all for the sake of one…”

Daniel slid to the floor, curled into a ball, head buried in his arms, shuddering with horror and disgust of himself.

Sam sat beside him and took him in her arms, and he grabbed convulsively at her, sobbing out incoherent apologies, strings of wet “I’m sorry”s. It took a while for the storm to pass, Daniel resting limp in Sam’s hold.

“I’m so, so sorry. I tried so hard after that afternoon, to… to make up for it, get us back to where we were, where we could all be friends and teammates again, but… I couldn’t make it never have happened. And Jack couldn’t forgive me. He never said… but there were no more hockey nights, no more dinners unless the whole team was there… no more friendship… it was there like a wall between us. And when Kelowna… it just seemed… better… to leave.”

But even Ascended, thought Teal’c, Daniel hadn’t been able to let go. He had kept watch, had been there for O’Neill, for Teal’c, for Rya’c and Bra’tac… In Ba’al’s palace, Daniel had offered O’Neill the one escape he wouldn’t take… to join Daniel on the Great Path. Did O’Neill even now realize what Daniel had truly been offering, what a rejection it must have been?

Daniel went on, sounding so sad, so weary, “When I got back, I let Jack think I’d forgotten what happened to us in the Pleasure Palace. At least… he seems… more easy around me. Or… did.”

Daniel made a tremendous effort to collect himself, snuffled, wiped his face, straightened away from Sam and hugged himself instead.

“Then the NID sent me to P5X 303, to translate an alien wall engraved with the plans for a super-weapon… a honkin’ big space gun. Oh God, I took one look at those evil little pyramids and I knew…”

“It was the weapon, the planetary defense system you designed and built in your dream,” Teal’c guessed.

Daniel nodded. “I recognized it immediately.”

“You don’t think it was a co-incidence?” Jacob asked gently. 

“In the dream Shifu gave me to teach me… I *was* the Harcessis. I had all the knowledge of the Goa’uld. Every weapon, every technology… but that’s the one I actually built. No, I don’t think there was any co-incidence involved. It had to be part of the message from Shifu and Oma. And even if I don’t remember how I built them now, I can still see the first picture I drew on the blackboard in the briefing room. A triangular, three-sided pyramid. One of the elements in the planetary defense grid. It was exactly the same as the inscriptions on that armory wall on P5X 303. I could never forget that evil little… never. And knowing what it could do in the wrong hands… even, especially mine… I couldn’t give it to the NID. I could *not* put that power in their hands. Not when every ploy they used to wring it out of me only convinced me I was right. But in resisting… I managed to destroy everything anyway. Me, you two, SG1, the SGC… I’ve wrecked it all. But I knew, if we built them, they would never be used on any threat ‘out there’. They’d be turned against us. If I helped them build that weapon, I’d be destroying the Earth. Again. No one else. Me. And I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t.”

Sam glanced down at the pages in her hand. “Heavy naquadah?”

“Naquadria.”

Sam shivered. The story graphically described a lab accident among the SGC technicians while struggling to create the power source required by the pyramid-shaped units of the system. Jay Felgar, Simon Coombs and Bill Lee, along with five others, dead, while Daniel stood safely outside the shielded lab, watching impassively from the observation room. Seven men, boiled down to protoplasm by radiation from the leak. 

“So when we got to Kelowna, you knew exactly what that stuff was. How dangerously unstable it was. What it could do if...”

Daniel nodded once more, heaving a sigh.

“And still you… oh God, Daniel.”

Å 

After dinner, another much needed nap, and a much-welcomed clean-up session in the al’kesh’s tiny bathroom facilities, Daniel joined his companions back in the peltak, taking the one seat they had left him. 

“So,” he said. “Where are we heading?”

“Your choice, Danny,” Jacob offered with a grin.

Daniel smiled back and gave a relieved sigh. “You have no idea how good that sounds to me right now.” 

Å


	7. The Universal Ramifications of Being Mean to Daniel

Å 

The interstellar ship was unlike anything anyone on Earth had ever seen. Sleek, silver, coming out of hyperspace just beyond Jupiter’s orbit, and sliding gracefully into the inner system until it hovered over the blue and white marble of the world known as Earth.

It didn’t bother with defensive shields or interference with any of the targeting and watcher systems used by the primitive planet below, sitting in plain view of everyone, big as a mountain, coasting slowly around the world, drinking up every communication frequency bristling from below. It listened patiently for a while, tolerant of one or two attempts to throw little weapons at it. These exploded safely in contained bubbles of protection, and held until all harmful agents dissipated. When the huge, block-ish, strangely ugly and ungainly Prometheus appeared in orbit to clumsily approach the graceful and beautiful alien craft, it too was surrounded in a bubble force-field which effectively froze it, like a fly in amber. 

Only when the alien visitors were ready, did they use their new-found knowledge to override every communication channel on Earth, and broadcast their message, in every language they had learned. 

“We are the Gadmir race. We are peaceful explorers. We have come to offer you our friendship, and an alliance based on this friendship, if it is possible. However, we have learned that there are hazards in the sharing of technology and knowledge too advanced for races younger and more primitive, and so we would take care in this alliance, not to set you at such risk. There is one among you wise enough to guide us to a mutually beneficial arrangement, and to him alone we would entrust our future and your own. He is well versed in dealing with beings such as ourselves, and the forging of treaties. His name is Dr. Daniel Jackson, and he is a member of SG1, emissary of your Stargate Command. We await his communication.”

Every broadcast with a picture component showed the face of this man, a young man with pale skin, blue eyes behind spectacles, light brown hair, wearing a military uniform. 

The Gadmir ship sat silently and patiently in orbit, and if there was a certain air of smugness, of having set a predator among a flock of prey just for the sheer pleasure of stirring excitement and alarm, there was no sensor array on Earth that would be able to detect such a thing. 

So came one of the pivotal moments in Earth history. The very first planet-wide unquestionable, undeniable, First Contact with an alien race. The alien ship had just provided the definitive answer to the age-old question, ‘Are we alone?’, blasting all locks off official secrets that had been kept for decades. And although, over the years, advisors and pundits had predicted mass hysteria and chaos at this event, there was no rioting, no chaos, no loss of authority, no guns in the streets. As a matter of fact, skirmishes in various war-torn regions stopped abruptly, as every eye was drawn inexorably upward. 

There were, however, many urgent, anxious and angry questions aimed at governments all over the world, wondering exactly what secrets had been kept from the people, and for how long (not the least of which was, where the *hell* had something like the Prometheus come from). And, oh, by the way, wasn’t anyone going to answer the Gadmir ship? 

Every government attempted contact individually, to be ignored. Anyone with a short-wave of any kind, and every transmitting station tried too, similarly talking into a wall. And then, one and all, even other governments looked to Washington with accusations, questions, demands.

Two days after the arrival of the Gadmir in the skies above Earth, the visitors still had nothing to discuss with anyone but the still-absent Dr. Jackson. Dr. Daniel Jackson, who, as far as anyone had been able to determine, was a failed Egyptologist whose theories had brought him into considerable disfavor in the academic community, and had not been heard from since: well, except for several separate and widely spaced reports of his death, all apparently spurious. News networks the world over scoured every possible source for information on the mysterious archeologist and the Stargate project, flooding the Oriental Institute, camping out around Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado, practically deluging the White House with questions no one in that noble edifice was prepared to answer.

Å 

On the third day, the Asgard finally arrived, during a full session of the President’s Privy Council, and appropriated the President in a flash of white light. 

General George Hammond looked up and down the long table and felt a fierce satisfaction at the predicament these men and women now faced. He had harangued each and every one of them at some time in the past few months, demanding Dr. Jackson’s release, and been turned down. None of them had much of a reason for declining, none of them wanted to hear his warnings of dire consequences, and now, none of them could meet his eyes. 

Surrounding him were the Pentagon Chiefs of Staff, Secretaries of every department, sundry advisors and counselors, as well as senators, congressional committee chairs, the heads of the FBI, CIA, NSA and, just across from him and struggling against the instinct to disappear under the table, Malcolm Barrett, the head of the newly re-constituted NID. The Chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee, Robert Kinsey, was restraining himself from an apoplectic fit with some difficulty, with two flunkies at his elbow (one of them *Lieutenant* Rohrbeck, who had been released under bond and still faced a full military court-martial for his conduct on P4X 391). 

Somewhere else in the White House, President-elect Henry Hayes was being hastily briefed on the Stargate project, although he was most emphatically *not* invited to this planning session. It was assumed his running mate, Vice President-elect Kinsey, would fill him in at some hazy later time.

The President’s chair at the head of the table was ominously empty still.

No one ventured to speak.

Then, with a flash of light, the President of the United States of America was dropped from a height of about two feet above the Executive Chair, and the Leader of the Free World plopped down, blinking and gasping. Hammond had to hand it to Thor: his aim was getting much better. Or maybe it was Asgard humor that had Colonel O’Neill re-appearing in closets, latrines and upside down in the Commissary kitchens. Meanwhile, the President was gaping about him, still shivering from reaction.

“I… I… I was… I…” he gobbled, eyes seeking out Hammond. 

“Mr. President,” ventured the general from Texas. “I expect you were just aboard an Asgard flag-ship. I presume you were speaking with Thor, the Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet. I imagine he had a few things to say on the subject of the Asgard alliance with Earth, the Protected Planets Treaty, and what they will, and will not, do about our current situation. Which, I would imagine, is bupkiss.”

The comment had a steadying effect on the rattled President. “Y… Y… yes,” the President agreed gratefully, at least for the moment. Then he swallowed, and managed to collect himself – it was a Herculean task. He gulped, reached for a glass of water an aide supplied.

His Vice-President, recognizing his partner’s need for breathing space, turned to General Hammond. “Maybe you can give us a re-cap of the situation, George. I just got in from Beijing this morning, and I confess, I, for one, am a bit confused. Just who the hell are these Gadmir?”

“SG1 encountered them when attempting to relocate the Enkaran refuges we freed from centuries of Goa’uld rule. The Gadmir were a highly advanced race that had suffered annihilation by a greater enemy. In a desperate attempt to preserve their race, they created a kind of ark ship, filled with databases containing their history, culture, and specimens of their homeworld’s life-forms… an automated ship programmed to seek an appropriate planet it could terra-form into a copy of their own, to restart their civilization. I guess they succeeded. We’ve made no attempt to connect with that planet since we left, assuming the atmosphere, altered to suit Gadmir physiology, would now be poisonous to us. Obviously, the Gadmir must have access to their agent Lotan’s memories, and are aware of his interaction with SG1. In that mission, Dr. Jackson was able to negotiate a successful deal to the benefit of both the Enkarans and the Gadmir. Without his intervention, either the Gadmir ark ship would have been destroyed, or the Enkarans we were attempting to re-locate would have been exterminated.”

“Another victory for Dr. Jackson,” Kinsey muttered. “Friend to every bug-eyed monster and slimy scaly reptile in the universe. We get it, George. The Gadmir owe Dr. Jackson, which is why he’s the only one they’re willing to speak to.”

The President directed a glance of intense dislike at the senator. “Be that as it may. We’ve got problems. The Gadmir have blown the lid off the Stargate project and our involvement in space. We’ve got queries from every government and news service, not to mention the Secretary General of the UN, to spill the beans. As for keeping secret the existence of aliens… well. You don’t even need a telescope to see the damn thing they’ve got parked over our heads. So what are we going to do about this?”

“Plausible deniability,” one advisor insisted. “We deny everything.”

“A little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Not if we can talk to the Gadmir privately.”

“They don’t want to speak to me, or you!” the President raged. “They want Dr. Jackson. And… oh, look! We don’t have him. Which is actually a good thing right now, because the last time seen, he wasn’t doing so very well in NID custody, was he? So what do we do? Come on people, you’re supposed to be the best and the brightest. What the hell do I tell the press, the country, the world, and the Gadmir?”

When there were no suggestions, and General Hammond was sitting back at perfect ease, enjoying the hell out of the whole situation, the President blew his last gasket.

“We’ve blown it, people. Big time. And, yes, okay, the buck stops right here, so I’ve blown it. The Asgard are furious with us for ignoring their request vis-a-vis Dr. Jackson’s incarceration. This little crisis has merely given them the opportunity they were looking for to hang us out to dry as an object lesson in the value of human rights. An alien race, lecturing the United States on Human Rights abuses. Go figure. And since they were the last of our allies who were still willing to give us the time of day, that means we’re on our own with the Gadmir. They have further informed me that over the past month, the Gadmir have been visiting all of our one-time allies, as well as acquaintances and enemies, and have been making deals and alliances of their own. Seems they started each contact with a question about Dr. Jackson, then, depending upon the answer, they either left, or entered into treaty negotiations. Care to guess what the deciding factor was each time? No? George?”

Hammond was hard-pressed to suppress a smile. “I would imagine the Gadmir are grateful to Dr. Jackson.”

“Apparently they are. Extremely. No, extremely grateful might even be a gross understatement. Not because he stopped Colonel O’Neill from blowing up their ark ship… Thor informs me that nothing O’Neill could have done would have even dented the Gadmir, even with a naquadah reactor. No, what they’re so grateful for is that Dr. Jackson, and he alone, prevented them from destroying the innocent lives of the Enkarans we had transplanted on that world. However unknowing or accidental that act would have been.”

General Hammond permitted himself a reminiscent smile. Jack O’Neill had still been fuming when SG1 returned from that mission, and while Dr. Jackson had grimaced at Jack’s loud complaints, he had been pretty damned pleased with himself. At the briefing he had waited for Jack to yell himself hoarse about disobedience to his commanding officer’s orders, then he had said, simply, “Win-win, Jack. Our Enkaran friends win, the Gadmir win, we’ve got a treaty with the Enkaran home world… and we’re all home safe and sound. End of story.” The possibility that a homemade naquadah-enhanced bomb would have blown up in his face hadn’t even appeared in his report, dismissed as unimportant. And, to Dr. Jackson, it probably was.

The President continued, “The Asgard have asked why we jailed – and tortured – Dr. Jackson.” This brought protests from around the table, but not from Hammond, to which the President merely raised a hand for silence. “Why we’ve *tortured* this man. We told them this is an internal matter of National Security, and none of their damned business. This from a country that has recently gone to war ostensibly over human rights violations, and claims the moral high-ground over nations harboring terrorists. Now, I know George here isn’t the sort to say ‘I told you so’, but Thor did. Loud, long and every damn chance he got. I know why I didn’t – couldn’t listen. I imagine every one of us at this table had their own reasons, their own agendas. But the bottom line is, we blew it. Big time. We stood by and allowed it to happen. And our only defense is that we didn’t really believe we’d have to pay up. Well gentlemen, it’s payday now. And, I hope you all appreciate the irony – the only person who can pull our nuts out of the fire – yet again – is Dr. Daniel Jackson. 

“So. Where is Dr. Jackson?”

“We have no certain knowledge of that at this time, Mr. President,” George reported, tossing a glance at Rohrbeck, glowering across from him, with an equally sour Kinsey at his side. “After completing the mission to rescue SG2 from P4X 391, Dr. Jackson was able to… evade Lieutenant Rohrbeck’s NID team.” Hammond rather liked the taste of that rank – Lieutenant – in his mouth, as well as the wince on Rohrbeck’s face each time he heard it.

“Evade? Evade, George? There were a couple of dozen NID went to that planet, weren’t there? Big, macho NID goons in black? And, correct me if I’m wrong, but I was told that after being a ‘guest’ of the NID for three months, and treatment you folks apparently don’t consider to be ‘torture’, Dr. Jackson was effectively crippled.”

“All true, Mr. President.”

“So… what? He *crawled* away from them?”

“He had help,” Rohrbeck growled.

“He has an intellect that staggers the imagination,” replied George wryly. “One of the many reasons we need him. Considering the combined IQ of Lieutenant Rohrbeck’s team, he didn’t really need any other advantage.”

“Now just a damned minute—“

“You want to argue, in the light of the report of that mission?” George challenged. “The stated mission objectives had been reached. SG2 was free, the local inhabitants were allowing you all to return to the Gate, moreover, they were willing to establish formal relations with us, even allow us limited access to the ruins for study, limited for our safety, by the way, *and* you still had custody of Dr. Jackson. You had full control of the situation. But then you decided to do a little sight-seeing while you were there. Let’s leave aside for now your ordering an armed contingent of NID to take forcible control of Stargate Command, and your hostile attack on a peaceful indigenous people, as well as *our own* teams, holding them hostage against their wills. In direct contravention of all protocols and advice from experienced senior SGC personnel planet-side and on site, and in violation of the local laws that got us into this mess in the first place, you entered a proscribed area which you had already been warned, repeatedly, was dangerous, full of booby-traps and hazardous ruins, and with nothing of value to find. And even with warning of clear and present danger, your ‘expert’ incursion team succumbed, one after the other, to those booby-traps. What happened to Dr. Jackson while your team was in that ruin is as much a mystery to you as it is to me, and you were there!”

“You want to be careful about going too far, George,” Kinsey hissed. “I’m still not convinced you and your precious Colonel O’Neill are entirely blameless here.”

“Colonel O’Neill was nowhere near that ruin, either! He was sitting under the guns of your men! Humans! *Americans*! And as a matter of fact, so was I! Tell me how either Colonel O’Neill or I could have had a damned thing to do with any of it? Or are you going to tell me the whole report, verified by Lieutenant Rohrbeck’s own personnel, was fabrication?”

“Gentlemen, please! Bob, if I were you I’d be more worried about the thin ice under your own feet,” the President snapped out. Losing the recent election meant he was just serving out the tail end of a less than lustrous term of office, and he had to confess to himself, he would be relieved to hand it all over to Henry Hayes and his Vice President-elect, Kinsey. Let Hank deal with that rat-bastard Kinsey. “I don’t know if you’ve thought this through, but when if and as we do get Dr. Jackson back, you aren’t exactly at the top of his list of friends. And Dr. Jackson, designated ambassador to the Gadmir, hero of the SGC and savior of Earth numerous times, is pretty much going to be able to write his own ticket. So if I were you, I’d be collecting retirement brochures, and the name of some good lawyers. And that’s only if Dr. Jackson comes back feeling extremely magnanimous and not anywhere near as vindictive as I would be in his place. Now. Maybe we can move on? George, got any ideas how we can get him back?”

Hammond considered this. “He might be in touch with some old allies. They may be able to get a message to him, if we can assure them it’s in Dr. Jackson’s own interest. And bear in mind, Mr. President, given the current state or our relationships out there, they won’t be easy to convince of our sincerity or trustworthy-ness. I think our best chance is to send Colonel O’Neill. I believe they still trust him. And he’s the only person left on Earth who has a chance of talking to Dr. Jackson himself.”

“Going to send him in alone, George? Without the back-up of the rest of the missing SG1?” Kinsey demanded, eyes dark with suspicion. “Anyone else here suspect a set-up? They had it planned, didn’t they? O’Neill knows exactly where he is.”

“He does not!” Hammond snapped back. “But he can get a message out there, and has a better chance of getting an answer than anyone else. And believe me, that’s not our first problem. Getting Colonel O’Neill to agree to go in the first place is going to be tough enough. And believe me, gentlemen, throwing his ass in jail is *not* the option you should chose if he refuses to help us. No, our first problem is, what the hell are we going to tell Dr. Jackson to convince him he should come home?”

Malcolm Barrett cleared his throat and ventured, “I suggest, for a start, we promise complete amnesty for any… *perceived* misconduct in the matter of the P5X303 translation. We might also consider offering compensation for his unlawful imprisonment… reparation for pain and suffering.”

“That’s a start,” Hammond acknowledged. “But that’s not going to be enough.”

The Vice-President said, “I caught a piece on Larry King about Jackson’s background… how his theories were discredited and he was basically kicked out of academia as a laughing stock. Would public vindication be a help? We’ve got that documentary Emmett Bregman made. I suggest we run that as soon as possible, in any case. It may also help to appease our own people and the world, give them the background on this whole mess.”

The President nodded as did many at the table, even as Kinsey gasped in dismay. “Are you mad? Have you even seen that piece of garbage? It practically deifies Jackson and the rest of SG1! Run that thing over my dead body!”

The President eyed him speculatively. “You might want to re-phrase that, Bob, because I gotta tell ya, that option is looking pretty damn good to me right now. Now George, from what I know of the man, offering to buy him off is not a good idea, but we do owe him for all he’s suffered at NID hands. And I like the Bregman angle. It solves a lot of problems at once, so we’ll go with that.” He turned to an aide, “Call Bregman, and get the wheels in motion. I want that thing to air tonight, no later. Alert the UN Secretary General and all world governments, send out advance copies. I’ll speak to the nation, and the world, right after. So, George. What else do we need to put on the table?”

“I do have one more suggestion, Mr. President…”

“I can’t believe this!” Kinsey erupted yet again. “You’re going to let that godless alien-lover write his own ticket? We’re going to completely sell out the ideals of this great nation to—“

“The ideals of this great nation?” The President challenged. “Like freedom? Freedom from unlawful arrest? Freedom of speech? Freedom from oppression and torture? For god’s sake, even a little gratitude for saving all of our asses! At the cost of his own life as often as not! Ideals like that, Bob?”

“Dr. Daniel Jackson is an enemy to the security and defense of this nation! He should be arrested, tried and convicted for treason, not given the keys to the kingdom! Mark my words, you go ahead with this and I will see to it you all pay the price!”

“You think I give a damn what you want at this point, Bob? I’ve got one more month in office before you and your buddy Hank take over. What the hell can you do to me now? I should never have listened to you in the first place, you arrogant, Bible-spouting, self-serving piece of shit. I only hope Hank has the good sense to bury you in a hole somewhere the second he’s done his inauguration speech. In the meantime… I’m done catering to your phobias. Bregman will show his little epic this evening, and let the world think what it wants about the way we treated the man who pretty much gave us the universe on a plate. Now unless you have some constructive suggestions about how the hell I’m supposed to deal with the Gadmir, or with the Asgard or any of our other former allies, who one and all think we’re a bunch of stinking traitorous bastards… then get the hell out of my face. George, I think you had one more suggestion…”

Å 

In the aftermath of Bregman’s documentary and the public address to the world from the Oval Office, came another document that was spread all over Washington, and the international press, the next morning. It was Dr. Jackson’s journal, describing his teaching dream. It was Nyan who added a postscript. In it, he described the events in Kelowna and the implications that Dr. Jackson had known full well, going in, what stopping that naquadria reactor melt down would mean for him. The addendum also included the events on P5X 303, discovering the blueprints for a device that had looked unnervingly familiar to Dr. Jackson and his subsequent refusal to share the details of that device with anyone. And it was that refusal that had resulted in Dr. Jackson ‘disappearing’ from the SGC into NID custody.

The NID, of course, could assert with perfect honesty, that they did not have custody of Dr. Jackson. Which piece of self-serving bull-shit sufficiently enraged the still-sitting President that he released the details of Dr. Jackson’s most recent medical report as well, and at a hastily-scheduled press conference, outlined the mission to P4X 391. 

Looking aghast at the details in the medical report, reporters could only blink up at the President, until one, quicker off the mark than her fellows, demanded, “And this man, crippled in the leg and stomach, surrounded by trained thugs, dragged into a booby-trapped alien ruin, managed to escape, unaided?”

“That is correct,” the President agreed. “I have been reliably informed by the people who know him best, that Dr. Jackson ‘has an intellect that staggers the imagination’. He is, after all, the man who did in two weeks what teams of Earth’s best and brightest scientists couldn’t do after two years of intensive study… open the Stargate. He’s the man who opened the universe to us and gave it to us on a platter, and was instrumental in saving our collective… hides more than once. 

“Yes, opening the Stargate has also put this planet in harm’s way by drawing unwanted attention to us, but it could be argued that it was only a matter of time until that attention turned to us in any case, and at least with the Stargate, we had options and alternatives we would not otherwise have had. It is only because of the Stargate, and the work of Dr. Jackson and the SGC, that we have the allies we do, that we collected the materials and technology to build the Prometheus. 

“The fact that we have treated Dr. Jackson so badly… is a disgrace and a dishonor to this nation, and to myself personally. I will have to live with the shame of it for the rest of my life. The fact that I’m not the only one guilty of this heinous treatment of a good and worthy man, is no consolation to me, nor should it be. And, yes, it is true, the only reason you are hearing all of this now is because the Gadmir above us have forced the issue. That it is an alien race that has had to come here and point out the cost of our own inhumanity… is a bitter pill to swallow.”

“Mr. President! Is there any way of locating Dr. Jackson now? Or of convincing him to come back?”

“Given all that has happened, would you come back? I’m not sure I would. But you must know by now, as I do, that Dr. Jackson is an unusual, even extraordinary, man. We have sent messages out to our former allies, friends of Dr. Jackson’s if no longer ours, detailing the present situation with the Gadmir, and asking for his return. We have promised him total amnesty and reparations for the wrongs done him, and promised his freedom and safety, should he return. We have revealed the existence of Stargate Command and his place there to the world, as earnest of our good faith. And yes, we fully realize that even this may not be enough to mitigate the wrongs already committed in the dubious name of national security. We can only hope he will be as magnanimous and forgiving to us as he has been to others.” 

Å 

Watching the press conference with General Hammond, Jack O’Neill could only sigh. “A day late and a dollar short.”

Hammond shrugged. “At least it’s all out there, in the public eye. Any move against Daniel is going to be lit up in neon like a Las Vegas casino. Whatever rogue NID or allies Kinsey has, they’ve gone under cover and slunk into the shadows. The only purpose served by an attack on Daniel now would be petty revenge, and considering the risks involved, I highly doubt anyone would try it. That should mean something, Jack.”

Jack thought about that and nodded slowly. “Maybe. And to tell the truth… Daniel is the one guy who *would* forgive those rat bastards, even this.”

“Will it be enough, do you think?”

“For Daniel? When it means Carter and Teal’c can come back and the SGC get back to business as usual? Yeah. More than enough.”

“Is it enough for you?”

Jack scowled. “I’ll let you know after I have a little talk with Henry Hayes.” 

Å


	8. All Over But the Shouting

Å 

In the end, it was Chaka who had come up with the best lure for an exiled archeologist. 

On the origin world of the Goa’uld, hidden deep in rain forest far from the Stargate, was a vast ruin of a city sunken into marsh and covered in creeper vines, surrounded by steamy nutrient-rich pools where queen Goa’uld symbiotes still spawned each early spring. Tribes of Unas migrated there once a year to feast on the rich bounty, competing with other large predators also drawn by the wealth of food, thereby keeping the numbers of Goa’uld in check. In the higher reaches of the stone ziggurat in the centre of the ancient city, ancient pipes still carried pure spring water to fountains there, forced up by artesian wells. It was here, high above the roof of the jungle, that a thriving encampment was established. 

Sam was delighted to be able to study the mechanics of the city, as well as testing the water in wells and pools and anything else she could think of. Although Jacob couldn’t stay, a few dozen Tok’ra had come to join the dig, fascinated and thrilled with this chance to study the primordial beginnings of their race. With so many queens available for study, the Tok’ra were hoping they would be able to find a way to trigger the metamorphosis in one of their own. More than that, here was an almost inexhaustible supply of symbiotes, for ally rebel Jaffa and the production of tretonin. Tok’ra diplomats were here with Bra’tac and many of the free Jaffa, negotiating through Daniel with the native Unas for a right to harvest infant Goa’uld for themselves. Imagine, Bra’tac had whispered in awe, no Jaffa need ever serve a Goa’uld lord again, if just for the need of a prim’tah to survive. Either drug or larva would be plentifully available right here. 

In his free time… and there wasn’t much, Daniel wandered the city with Chaka and Teal’c, recording the writings and murals on the walls, attempting to translate a language almost a hundred thousand years old, by his conservative estimate. And the story on the walls was heart-breaking in its tragedy and inevitability. 

In the laboratory chambers, he read of the evolution of the Goa’uld from sea-snake to parasite. The annual spring spawning drew the queens and the male consorts through a killing gauntlet of predators to this one region due to the unique qualities of the ponds here. Then one captured adult had burrowed into the body of its captor, and learned to feed upon blood and oxygen-rich internal organs, absorbing all it needed from the host creature, using its own unusual regenerative qualities to keep the host alive in spite of its feeding. Heart, liver, lungs and brain, all blood and oxygen-rich organs, those who latched to the brain saw the best success. Returned next season to the spawning pools, the symbiote escaped from the host, leaving a dead or dying host behind to further draw predators, and bequeathed its knowledge of how to survive within another creature to the next generation. 

The Unas, meanwhile, even in their earliest development, had been intelligent enough to recognize and avoid being taken by the Goa’uld parasites, and so had denied the creatures the one thing they had needed to become sapient themselves – an intelligent host. 

Daniel delved into other chambers where the lore of the Unas had been written. They had once been an advanced race, their culture rich in history, art, music, poetry… they were warriors, yes, but devoted to the principles of honor and justice. But their scientists discovered the healing properties in the Goa’uld symbiotes, and they began farming them in the pools. They knew the danger of the mature symbiotes, and believed they had control of the juvenile larva. But over long ages, they grew careless, or perhaps ambitious… ceased to take the care needed when dealing with a mature Goa’uld… 

Factions divided the population, of those who wanted to blend with the Goa’uld for full affect of strength, health and longevity, and those devoted to the age-old taboos against this. Civil war decimated the population. The joined Unas, with all the power of their symbiotes, easily won the savage battles, took control of the city, while the few surviving unjoined fled to the jungles and forests, turning their backs on all they had been in disgust, embracing the more primitive life of freedom. The joined did not long dwell in peace, but fuelled by the greed of their increasingly dominant Goa’uld masters, began to fight among themselves, until very few remained. 

And then, one day, a traveler came among them from the Stargate. They had not even known of its existence before this. Now, however, dazzled by the traveler’s tales, they saw the vistas of domination spreading out before them… wealth, power, slaves aplenty there for the taking... 

“Who was this traveler, Danieljackson?” Teal’c asked. 

“It doesn’t say. Could have been anyone from the Four races, or any other race using the Stargate Network… After sharing all he knew with them, they killed him. And one day soon after that, all of the Goa’ulded Unas simply left. The end of one chapter for the Goa’uld on this planet, and the beginning of their domination of the galaxy. As for your ancestors, Chaka, they had turned their backs on civilization and all the grief it had brought them, content to dwell in peace with their world, and eternal enemies of the feral un-hosted Goa’uld still sharing this planet with them.”

Chaka, kneeling at Daniel’s side, simply nodded and grunted, approving of his ancestors’ decision. Then, in his guttural English, he asked in troubled tones, “And if we deal with the Tok’ra and Jaffa, Dan’yel, will we still be wise?”

Daniel sighed. “I can only say this, Chaka. The Tok’ra and Jaffa have suffered oppression from the Goa’uld even as your ancestors did. They have been enslaved and slaughtered just as you have. They stand against the Goa’uld just as you do. Will there come a day when any of them forget what they have suffered and once again are seduced by the power of the Goa’uld? I don’t think so.”

“Never,” Teal’c assured the young Unas. “The Tok’ra have race memory and will never forget what evil their Goa’uld cousins represent. As for the Jaffa… we will never forget the centuries of slavery, or the evil we have been forced to do in the name of the false gods. We have murdered our own people for uncounted generations, all at the whim of the foul beings who believe they are our gods. What we have found here, what we hope to accomplish may bring the ultimate end of the Goa’uld. We will never permit them to rise again.”

If Daniel, with an archeologist’s and once-Ascended’s appreciation of time, had reservations about how long ‘never’ would be, he said nothing. Time would play out as time always did. It seemed every age had to learn certain truths for themselves, no matter how much warning they had from the past. He looked about him at the ruin of a noble civilization, and sighed. 

There was a click of his radio then, signaling a message. 

“I’m here, Sam. What is it?”

“It’s Dad. He’s at the Stargate. He’s brought a visitor.”

“Who is it?” 

“Oh, someone I think you’ll want to see. Meet us at the camp?”

“Will do.”

Å

Daniel climbed the last steps to the garden plateau on top of the ziggurat and stopped dead when he saw the familiar figure standing there. The jungle, the others gathered, all fell away in a mist as he focused on that beloved form. 

Jack turned and grinned, that shit-eating grin that melted Daniel’s insides, and he was unaware of running forward into that embrace. And then crying. Weeping, heart-broken for the final stab to his last hope. 

“So they finally drove you out, too?” was all he could manage to gasp out. 

“No! God, no, Danny. I haven’t left, I’ve been sent, as emissary. You’ve won, Danny-boy. You’ve won the whole damn shooting-match. You know who just showed up, out of nowhere, into the blue skies of Earth? The Gadmir. Remember them? Well, they’re back in business, and they came looking for you. Imagine everyone’s surprise when you couldn’t be found? And the Gadmir won’t talk to anyone else. With the truth about aliens out of the bag, the President came clean, about everything. The Stargate is now public knowledge, the NID is no more, at least, not as we know it, Bregman’s documentary has been aired, oh, about a dozen times, and you’ve not only been vindicated among the academic community, but touted as the star and hero of the SGC. The red carpet is being unrolled as we speak. If you decide to come home, that is. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to, or if you decided to make the bastards sweat a little, make them wait… but you can come home, Danny. Your safety and freedom has been guaranteed by both the current administration, and the next. Apologies and any reparations you want are yours for the asking. You’ll be able to write your own ticket, do anything, go anywhere, you want. Guaranteed, in writing.”

Dazed, Daniel had to have Jack’s help to collapse on a nearby stone. Gasping for breath, eyes blinking, as he struggled to take it all in. 

“Everyone knows, about the SGC?”

“Yup. There’s a bit of reorganization going on, with the approval of the next President, Henry Hayes, setting up an international advisory, because, well, we’re taking a pretty big black eye for keeping something like this secret as long as we did. Stargate Command is going to have to represent the planet, from now on, with everything that means. Including the participation of the world’s leading scientists and diplomats… we’re expanding, with funding and participation from the UN. And everyone wants you on board, for all of it. Leading the way. Just what you always wanted, Daniel. A truly planet-wide concern. We can finally come out of the shadows, pull in the people you always wanted, do things the way you always wanted. And no more worrying about the NID or those faceless rogue elements. Their teeth have been pulled. They only ever had the clout they did because the SGC was so wrapped up in secrecy. And, just between the four of us, Hayes has promised to get Kinsey impeached as soon as humanly possible, for… ‘misjudgement’, shall we call it, committed in the name of national security. Kinsey’s toast, Danny. No more NID threat.”

“I… I…” Daniel still could not take it all in. It seemed too much, too suddenly… all he had dreamed of for the SGC and for his planet… how could it possibly be true? But gazing into Jack’s grinning face, he had to believe it. Jack would never lie to him.

“And Sam and Teal’c? They can go home? Be SG1 again?”

“Complete with ticker-tape parades in our honor.”

“I… I can go home?” said that small, frightened voice, born of an eight-year-old who had watched his whole world crushed under a stone in an instant, and had never really believed it could ever be put right after. 

Jack knelt before him, and took his chin in a gentle hand, till Daniel’s blue, tear-filled eyes could meet his own. “You can come home. I promise, Daniel. It’s safe. You can come home.”

Choking on sobs that overwhelmed him, Daniel could only nod his assent, as Sam, Teal’c and Jack gathered around him and held him tight. 

Å

Still a little gun-shy, as were his closest supporters, Daniel decided that he didn’t want to come back through the Stargate. Instead, Jacob offered a lift in his tel’tak. So it was with some fanfare, under the watchful eyes of the Asgard, the Gadmir, and the world press, that the small cargo ship landed on the grounds of the White House, careful not to crush the roses or damage the gardens.

There was indeed a red carpet laid out, and much hoopla, along with speeches, apologies from the current President and promises from the President-elect. And then silence fell as Dr. Daniel Jackson himself, a little red-faced at all the attention, took the podium. 

“In the years I have served with Stargate Command, I have explored many worlds, encountered many cultures. And I can tell you from personal experience, that none of them, not even the most advanced, are without their weaknesses, their flaws, and none of them are immune to making mistakes. Sometimes, the very thing that makes them strongest, is their greatest weakness. Those of us who study man and his history, know only too well what crimes can be committed by those who are in the grip of fear. That most ancient, strongest instinct of our lizard hind-brain can motivate us to terrible acts. But if intelligence gives us any advantage at all, it is to over-ride our basest instincts and rise above them. We have been told by those who know, that we are still very young. We have also been told that we have within us the potential to be the Fifth Great Race the universe has known, and our destiny to take our place alongside the Asgard, the Nox, the Furlings and the Ancients, the people who built the Stargate Network, to link all the intelligent species together. 

“The Gadmir are here to offer to help us. If not to rise instantly to Fifth Race status, at least to survive until we can do so on our own. I think you all know as well as I do, that we are not ready. Yet. But we will be. One day. I have every confidence in this.”

There was much cheering at the conclusion of his speech. There were also many questions from the crowd, none of which Daniel heard, much less answered.

And then a shuttle from the Gadmir ship landed beside the tel’tak, and a port opened. Daniel marched toward it with his team at his back, and together, they entered and were taken to the Gadmir.

Å

The shuttle had been built with humans, or at least humanoids, in mind, and there were, oddly enough, four padded swivel seats for the members of SG1 to take. The atmosphere smelt a little funny, but had been flushed with Washington air, and only a tinge of ozone reflected the supply of pure oxygen being piped in for their comfort. When the shuttle docked, rather than supply their guests with life support suits, the Gadmir merely activated a wall-sized monitor within the shuttle to communicate with SG1. 

There were four Gadmir on screen, shown life-sized, which meant larger than humans, squatting as their very alien physiognomy dictated. A reddish mist swirled about them. They tilted their heads to study the aliens before them. 

“Dr. Daniel Jackson. We are… happy… to see you well.”

“Thank you,” Daniel replied humbly. “I have to thank you for that. It was your demand to see me that enabled me to come home.”

“Home… to Earth.”

“Yes.”

“We have learned much in our mission to seek you out. Our race does not develop and learn as does yours… we… mature at a much faster rate, and are able to… apprehend from the devices left behind by our ancestors. The accumulated knowledge contained in the vivaform ark ship enabled us to assimilate all that once was, to rebuild, recreate our… home. We, the Gadmir, are a race built upon the principles of function and purpose. But there was contained in the log of our ark, some puzzles. Our enkaran avatar, Lotan, learned of a truer purpose. Of this we yearned to learn more. Something not contained in the race-memory of our learning devices and databases. And so this ship was created and set out. We have been to many worlds, encountered many cultures, in your foot-steps, Dr. Jackson. We, too, have learned of weakness and strength. We have learned of right and wrong, of punishment and crime, of justice and vengeance. And we have learned also of mistakes, of reparation, and of forgiveness. For all these lessons, we thank you.”

“Um… you’re welcome?”

“Know this, Dr. Daniel Jackson of Earth. We have learned well, and wish you to know, you have the friendship of the Gadmir race. Call upon us, and we will come. And when your people are ready to hear, we will be ready to tell.”

Daniel sighed. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Oh, er… excuse me, Jack O’Neill here, Colonel, US Air Force, CO of SG1… um… about me trying to blow you all up that time…”

“In protection of the helpless refugee enkarans you were pledged to protect, yes?” queried the central Gadmir.

“Yeah, about that… well… no hard feelings, right? Nothing personal against you… people.”

“No hard feelings at all, Colonel O’Neill. We appreciate the difficulty of your position at that time. But… do not do so again.”

“No! Hell, no. Of course not.”

“Now we shall set you down, and report to your media all we have said here.”

The shuttle returned to the White House gardens, and SG1 disembarked. The shuttle returned to the mothership, and the Gadmir ship turned and sped away. Close on its heels went the Asgard. And the skies of Earth were quiet and lonely once more. 

Å

“So… Daniel.”

Daniel looked up from his desk, his old desk in his old office, though the shiny new sign on the door did identify this as the office of the Civilian Chief of Staff of the newly reconstituted Stargate Command. Jack was leaning against the door fame, legs crossed at the ankle, arms crossed on his chest, frowning a little. 

“Jack. Hi. Hello. What’s up?”

Jack used a finger twirling in some arcane gesture known only to himself at the piles of work on Daniel’s desk. “I would have thought the grand pooh bah would be able to delegate some of this stuff to lesser minions.”

Daniel blinked down, then up again. “I can. I will. But I have to determine where it has to go first.”

“Ah. Big job?”

“In a word… yes.”

“So, no time to leave and grab a bite of dinner with me and the team?”

With a sigh, running fingers through his hair, Daniel leaned back in his chair and stretched out muscles. “You know, this will all still be here when I get back, if I take a little break now.” 

“Good. Good! Because it’s been… you know… forever since we’ve been able to, you know, talk.”

“Talk?” Daniel demanded, suddenly wary.

“Yeah, you know. We haven’t had you to ourselves since Jacob brought us back. And the trip from Chaka’s place, well, we didn’t really, you know, talk. Much.”

“Jack, you’re crap at talking. You only ever do it with a gun to your head, or when one of us is dying or close to death, and even then… what’s this about?”

“I just thought maybe we needed to clear the air about a few things. Like… your journal.”

Daniel resisted with some difficulty the urge to curl up into a fetal ball. “Oh. That.”

“Yeah, that. Then there’s the Pleasure Palace… you said you still didn’t remember much about that.”

Daniel felt a cold sweat now. “I don’t.”

“Is that true, Danny-boy?”

“Jack…”

“See, the thing is, I had a little chat with Carter. Carters, actually. Both of them.”

Daniel put his head in his hands and groaned.

“Yeah, well, Jacob laid into me pretty hard about deciding what the hell I wanted, and not screwing around his little girl any more. Demanded to know exactly what my intentions were, and if I wasn’t going to make an honest woman of her, I should move the hell along. I… uh… denied all knowledge of any intentions at all… got my hand slapped for that one. Bit the bullet, and came clean with Sam about a few things… She and I… it was a pretty little picture we had going, white picket fence and Christmas card puppies playing in the yard… and neither one of us would be able to actually live in it for more than an hour before we drove each other nuts. I don’t understand one word in ten that she speaks, and she hasn’t a clue what makes me tick, never has. She’s gonna be a lot better off with that new beau of hers, whatsisname, Pete whatever.”

This finally made Daniel lift his head and stare at Jack. “Pete Shanahan? He’s still around?”

“Yeah. And he waited for her while she was out there in semi-exile. That alone gets him points in my book. Sooo… I admitted that I might have been… somewhat jealous… maybe throwing a few wrenches in her way… and I agreed there was no reason for it, and I would stop. Absolutely, as of now.”

“Well… good. Good for you. Sam deserves any chance at happiness she can get.”

“And it won’t be with me. Yeah, yeah, I know. We shed a few tears at each other, and then Sam said… did I know what it was I really *did* want. Or rather who. And how many chances did I think I was gonna get, if I didn’t get my head out of my ass. And that was a hint, by the way.”

“Jack…”

“Daniel. I thought you didn’t want it. Tried it just that one time, in that Goa’uld Pleasure Palace, coming down from addiction, depressed all to hell, needing any connection you thought you could get, and once in your right head, decided you didn’t want any part of it. Or maybe it was just me you didn’t want any part of. God knows, I’ve got my problems, and issues up the wazoo… and you can do, oh, so much better. But just that once, gave me a peek into something… I tried to back off, let you have your space, respect your wishes… and all it did was make me a bitter, twisted, sorry sonuvabitch. I was a bastard to you that whole year before Kelowna. I felt like… somehow… I deserved to have you leave me like that. That the year without you was my penance. Then you came back, it seemed like you had forgotten all about what happened at the Pleasure Palace and after, and that, somehow, we had a magic do-over. And I tried my best to be a good friend again. 

“But… Daniel… if there’s any chance, any chance at all, that you might want to give me, give us, another shot… I swear, I will do everything in my power to make it good. That one moment… I came back wanting that moment again, and more. Did research. Some of it squicked me to begin with… until I started seeing you and me… and lately... it’s got so that’s the only way I can get off, any more, is to imagine all the ways you and me can… be together.”

“Jack… your career…”

“Means squat to me just now. Not that I seriously think that’s even an issue right now. The world wouldn’t care if we ate baby seals and painted ourselves purple. If we keep it private and discrete, just tell a few selected friends who probably know already, or will only be shocked it took us so long… took *me* so long to get my head out of my ass… 

“Daniel, you’ve been living down here in base quarters, with your house sold and your stuff in storage, again. Have you even seen the sun since you got back? Come home with me tonight, bring your stuff, you can put it all in the spare room for now, there’s plenty of precedent for that, no one will think a thing about it. Then we can take it slow, any speed you want… but come home with me. Please. Let’s at least give it a try. Hunh?”

Daniel shut his eyes tight, tried not to be beguiled by that deep, slow voice, those velvet eyes, those big strong hands, the word echoing in his head, home…

All that he had ever wanted, suddenly made possible… 

He figured he owed the Gadmir, big time. 

“Okay, Jack. Let’s go home.”

Å


End file.
